Within Holy Walls
by trimurti
Summary: After eight years of working in Murond, a troubled young cataloguer is transferred to Lionel. Now it's time for Reis Dular to learn how to live, how to love, and how to let go...
1. 1: What Lies Inside

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

One: What Lies Inside

-0-

"He, The Son of God: Translations of the Words of St. Ajora, Volume VIII by D. Alder Ulderam," I whisper, although no one would be in this storage room at this time of the day. "Though it isn't as if there aren't enough of you around...you belong right here." I place the tome right beside its brother, Volume VII, on the lowest shelf of the bookcase. Casting a wary eye at the chest of newly printed--and reprinted, as the case may be--books on my left, I can see that I'm little more than halfway done with the newest shipment from Lesalia. At this rate, I'll easily be done before the suppertime bell.

Well, done with the Lesalia shipment, anyway.

I rub at my eyes, which are a bit strained from scanning through the fancy calligraphy often scrawled along the covers of massive volumes since just after the morning meal. Or maybe they're strained because I've been doing this type of work since I was adopted by the Church here in Murond Holy Place, I'm not sure.

I guess eight long years will do that to anyone.

Standing up, I can't help but notice how silent it is in this building. It must be nearly noon now.

I wonder if it's a sunny day outside?

It doesn't really matter, but it's been a long time since I've gone out for a breath of fresh air...

_--_tmptmptmp--

I pause. Somebody other than myself is here?

Oh, it's probably one of the priests. Or maybe it's one of the other cataloguers for the other storage rooms. There's a lot of them recently, filling up the other rooms. I'm the only cataloguer who works on this floor, though.

I work best alone.

"Miss Dular? Miss Dular, are you here?" The voice is feminine, one that I cannot easily place. Then again, I really don't talk to many people here, not like I could if I wanted to. The Shrine Knights are always busy, and the priests and mages are, as well, and...well, I have a job to do here too.

Besides, what else is there to talk about these days other than the war?

"Miss Dular!" Closing my eyes, I walk out from between the shelves surrounding my person, feeling a vague sense of concern. She seems to be looking for me very determinedly.

Why?

"Here I am," I say quietly, not seeing the girl at first. A small figure pops out from behind a bookcase further down the row. She looks young, especially with her round face, blond pigtails and the regulated white cloak with red trim for white mages, which seems almost too large for her small frame. She must be a recent trainee. They used to be a rare sight, since most of them go straight to the battlefield, but...I guess some of them would rather not see death all the time.

"Oh, you are Miss Dular?" She smiles widely at me. "It was a blessing from Saint Ajora that I found you so quickly! The High Priest wishes to see you at once!"

The High Priest wants to see me?

Considering that I don't make myself known at all, I'm a bit surprised he would even know of my existence among the hundreds working and living here in Murond. That doesn't sound like a particularly good thing. "Should I get cleaned up first?" I gesture to my long-sleeved white blouse and forest green dress loosely draped on my body, knowing that the dust here in the library is attracted to bright colors. It's too bad that I happen to like wearing those colors the most.

"I...err..." The trainee is at a loss for words. I can't help but take pity on her...she seems so helpless.

"Never mind. Please take me to High Priest Funeral's office." I try to smile a little, which calms down the young girl. Seemingly happy that she didn't have to make a decision, she leads me out of room, up a flight of stairs, over to the other end of the main hall, up several flights of stairs, and down yet another hall to a door being guarded by two Shrine Knights. They don't look any higher than Knight Blades in rank.

I can't help but think that, if an intruder managed to get past the whole regiment of Shrine Knights, both Divine and Temple, throughout the city proper, how would these two bar the intruder from reaching the High Priest?

My guide seems unnerved as she addresses them. "Er...hello, ah...I was told by the High Priest to find Miss Dular, and I've found her..."

One of the knights looks at me, no doubt seeing a disheveled young woman covered in dust. Now I wish I had coaxed the girl to give me time to clean up. It's not every day that I'm called to visit my employer...

A smile flits along the knight's lips, and I feel like hiding even more. "Yes, we've heard." He pulls open one of the grand oak doors and nods for his partner to do the same. "Right this way, miss."

My guide scampers out of my way. Wow. That's not really a vote of confidence, is it?

I try not to acknowledge either her evident nervousness, or the curiosity in the quieter knight's eyes...or the slight leer on the other knight's lips.

What's that for?

I step inside the vast office, trying not to wince as the doors slam behind me.

I'm not nervous...

My eyes are drawn to the bookshelves lining the High Priest's walls, and I can't help but notice how many of the tomes are in the language of twelve centuries prior. There aren't many books like those in the storage rooms, although I was taught to read that ancient form of Ivalician letters...

"Miss Reis Dular."

At that grave tone, my attention is torn from studying the bookshelves to the desk just a few feet before me. A shriveled old man sits behind it, clothed in the elaborate holy robes of the Church.

I'm not nervous at all...

I bow stiffly at the waist. Is this is the proper way to greet the head of the Church? I only work here, and the ceremonies and greetings more complex than the ones needed during church are lost on me. "H-High Priest..."

Why am I here?

"You may rise, Miss Dular." I do so, trying to keep my eyes off of his person or wandering over to his bookshelf. I end up staring at the front edge of his desk. That feels like the most proper thing to do, in any case. I can see his hands flip through a book.

Is he going to read a hymn of Saint Ajora to me to test my faith?

If that's so, I'd fail...

"Head Cataloguer Reis Dular. Born February twenty-sixth of the twenty-sixth year of Pantora. Currently twenty-one years of age. Adopted by the Glabados Church of Saint Ajora on September ninth in the year of our Lord nine hundred and seventy-nine, otherwise known as the thirty-ninth year of Pantora. Became an assistant for the head cataloguer at the time." He wheezes out the history slowly, seemingly clinging to every word as if each one was going to be his last.

Well, he is in his seventies...that's almost unheard of in these times.

"...An Urleon Triffre, who retired three years afterward at the age of fifty-seven in the year of our Lord nine hundred and eighty-two, or the forty-second year of Pantora. At that time you became the head cataloguer of Underground Bookroom Level One, and have remained in that position for five years since. Quite an amazing feat to take care of such a large section completely unaided from such a young age. It also says that you've learned to read standard Ivalician and the varying dialects, as well as the ancient form of the language. Very impressive for an orphan girl."

I nod, completely bored at his rambling, meticulous telling of my history and his condescending praise. Why is he telling me something I've lived through?

Why can't he get to the point?

"But, all the same, I've decided to let you go."

I raise my head quickly, staring at the High Priest with what I'm sure is a very shocked expression. "I...I don't quite understand...?"

I'm...being fired?

He raises a wrinkled, skinny hand and I close my mouth immediately.

Did I do something wrong? I've never stolen a book before. Theology isn't my favorite subject, anyway. Did he find out that sometimes I skip mandatory church meetings in favor of work? I...I don't like being around people anyway. And all the the sermons sound the same.

Where am I going to go now? What can I do when there are battlefields all over Ivalice?

"I'm sure you have many questions." I try not to snort in derision at this. "And let me assure you that you are not being let go from employ by the Church."

Why didn't he say that in the first place? Does he like seeing lowly workers squirm? Hardly becoming behavior for the High Priest.

"Instead, you are to be transferred to Lionel Castle to work under Examiner Draclau."

Lionel?

That's south of...

"I thank you for the opportunity, but aren't there more qualified cataloguers...?" I hesitantly form each word and make sure they're all backed by my soft voice, but the look the High Priest is giving me is making the process very painful, so I quickly backtrack. "I'm sorry to question your judgment."

I really don't want to go. Not there.

"As you should be," he responds, indignant. I wince. I've heard of people being named heretics for lesser crimes than talking back to the High Priest himself. "At any rate, prepare for your trip. You will be leaving tomorrow."

"I understand...thank you for this opportunity." I bow insincerely, then turn to leave. It would be a waste of time to ask the specifics of my assignment, with the way I've managed to insult my employer.

Maybe if I wasn't this way, timid and soft-spoken...seemingly shy...

But it's not like I'm shy, not really.

I'm...different.

I just want to be left alone.

-0-

In the dead of the night, I slip out from my tiny room and head over to my...my former workplace, the storage room filled with bookcases of theological information. All the cataloguers live in dorms next to the church, close to our assigned storage rooms. There are no guards wandering about on this nearly moon-less night; the only footsteps, the only shallow breaths I can hear are my own. Still, I move quietly, making sure that I won't be surprised by a stray knight. I'm very used to sneaking out. I can't help it.

I want to go to a place where no humans dwell.

Quickly enough, I reach a side door--one that leads to the hall where I can take the stairs down to my place. I open this door, normally unlocked, with nary an errant squeak and slip through.

Here I can hear the stunted breathing of knights who want nothing better than to leave their post and retire to their beds. Fortunately, they--three sets of breathing--are further down on my left and a turn to the right, in the main hall. I gently close the door and walk to my right, soon reaching the door that leads to the staircase. I open it--another unlocked door, which tells of the sort of security found here--and take the stairs two at a time, then use the key tucked deep within my sleeping robes of lavender and blue to open the door to my haven.

It may just be a storage room for books, but to me...

I love this place, this room full of dusty tomes and knowledge beyond what we know today. As I spread my arms and twirl around like the child I once was, stirring the musty air so that it nearly overwhelms my sensitive nose, I try to drown in this sensation of being-alone-but-not.

It'll be the last time, I'm sure.

I love working here--I loved working here--because in some weird way, although I was working by myself, I wasn't alone.

Whenever I would walk outside, I would always see a gaggle--or is that a giggle?--of young girls training to be white mages, excitedly talking about a new healing spell, or perhaps a cute knight on the grounds. Knights would walk in twos, talking about how they were happy to not be in the real war brewing outside our little bubble of protection, or how tough the training to become a Divine Knight was. Huddled priests would debate on a particular passage of one of St. Ajora's sermons--perhaps even using a note from that translated volume I was looking at earlier today.

And then there was me. Just me.

I've never been picked on, or treated unkindly in any way. Whenever I talk to someone, they seem to genuinely like me.

But I can't connect with anyone.

The reason lies within me. I'm sure that I'll never understand what it is about me exactly, that essential part of me that marks me as different from other human beings.

In some fundamental way, I'm not aligned with everyone else.

"Goodbye, my friends," I murmur, using a word I've never applied to a human being. "I'll miss you."

I slip out of the darkened room and make my way back to my room. I am quiet coming back, and I remain unseen, unheard, unnoticed.

Like usual.

-0-

"Here is your carriage, miss." A young Holy Knight greets me with these words as I exit the main entrance of the dorms the next morning. "We're going to catch a ship to Goug, then another ship to Warjilis, then a carriage to Bariaus Valley."

"I thought I was going to Lionel Castle," I respond, self-consciously rearranging my powder blue mantle when I catch the weird look the knight is giving me. It's as if he didn't expect me to remember my destination.

"Well, I've heard that as well, but unfortunately you'll have to be dropped off a little sooner than that. It seems that an important emissary will be at Warjilis Trade City, and since I'm the only elite knight heading in that direction..." He trails off as I nod, feeling dejected at this news. "But Lionel Castle will be sending one of their Temple Knights to meet you! That's not bad, right miss?"

Attempting to smile at the news, I can only wonder if he's trying to cheer me up. "I understand. That makes me feel better." Well, I guess it does. "Shall we be off, then?"

"Oh! Er...of course." He opens the door to the carriage and holds it open long enough for me to get myself and my valise through, then slams it and walks over to the front. I hear a faint 'Wark!' and the carriage starts to move.

There are no windows in this carriage, and it makes me feel as if I'm traveling in my very own coffin.

A coffin...being sent back to my homeland.

-End of One-

What inspired this series (completely in Reis' POV, I'll warn you now) was this line, said if you try to remove her from your troop when she reverts back to human form:

"Alone again? And this time I thought I finally found it..."

I highly doubt she's talking about the years she lived as a dragon, although she was alone during those years. And, she's now reunited with Beowulf. So why 'alone again'? I think she's suffered a loneliness that is based on 'being different'--something Ovelia can attest to as well--but maybe something beyond that. Yes, this fic will put emphasis on the love triangle and about love in general; however, I'd like to think that the theme of this story is about the many forms of loneliness and how we attempt to cover them up.

The time period of this story is 'Pantora'. I made it up, just because I was annoyed at the lack of labeling the years. It's the current era, which started when the 50 Year War first broke out. The short, vague period of peace afterward will be named something else, and the era of the Lion War will have another name. There is another way of labeling the year numerically, which the Church uses (with the number starting from some time after Ajora's death.)

Although this is a story where everyone knows the ending, I hope you'll continue to read it anyway! Anyway, thank you for reading!


	2. 2: High Rank

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Two: High Rank (_Fate?_)

-0-

During my four days of travel, I learned a little about the world.

According to my guide, it's inconvenient to go to Lionel with just one boat ride. There was fighting in Lionel before I was born, and a lot of people died during a battle at Zigolis Lake. My guide, who looks younger than me, said that all the bodies in the water somehow poisoned the lake, turning it into a swamp. A young Holy Knight by the name of Alphons Draclau led an attack to push the remaining Ordalian unit back, and the rest is recent history. The swamp still remains, and it was safer to catch another boat to Warjilis from Goug. Once we arrived, there was another carriage waiting for us, and my guide took the reins. It's been a pleasant trip, and now we're in the middle of Bariaus Valley.

I still don't feel all that comfortable being here, though.

The carriage door opens and I step out, valise in hand. My loaned knight smiles at me as he holds open my door. "I tried to get as close to Lionel Castle as possible," he says, closing the door and looking up into the sky. "It's a nice April day, isn't it?"

I look up. Blue sky, no clouds. "Yes, it's perfectly normal for this part of Lionel."

I can remember playing outside with Tyrei and Quain on a day just like this one...

"Oh, you're from here, miss?" I snap out of my memories and sheepishly nod. The knight nods thoughtfully. "I see. A lot of people transfer from Lionel to Murond, though it is a bit strange to be transferred back."

Looking away, I let my borrowed chauffeur ramble on. It's not as if he needs to know the truth.

"Great, I think I'm late," he says, looking at the position of the sun. He turns to me and gives me what seems to be an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I was going to wait with you until the Temple Knight showed up, but it seems like you'll have to wait by yourself." He hops on the front of the carriage, picking up the reins of the chocobo. "May Saint Ajora look over you!" He snaps the reins once, twice, and then the carriage is on its way back to Warjilis, leaving a trail of scattered dust behind.

"Thank you," I whisper long after the dust has settled. That knight really was a nice man. I wish I had asked for his name. I wish he had asked me for mine.

It would've been nice...

Regrets are a lot like bad memories that way. Afterwards, you think of ways that things could've been changed.

I've too many of the latter. I'd rather not add to the former.

I've got to stop thinking about this. Lionel Castle is just ahead. I can see a large, yellow wall, although not the castle itself. It doesn't look so far away. I think I'll walk. I don't want to put out an elite knight just for my sake, anyway. Besides, most of the monsters are on the other side of the castle town, over in...over in Bariaus Hill.

...I don't want to think about it.

-0-

Lionel Castle town is guarded by tall, yellow stone walls; the gate itself is significantly taller than the walls. I imagine that it looks the same on the other side, facing Bariaus Hill. A genius did not come up with the design, and neither did anyone with an inclination toward art--it's a rather perfunctory look, but it's not ugly. It resembles the way the Church would like its members to be like, plain and rather boring. There's not much in the way of security on the outside either. Overall, it's very different from Murond.

I take a bite of the red fruit that I picked off of one of the many trees around the castle walls. It's a sour-sweet and crunchy Bariaus apple. I've missed these things.

On the other side of the open wooden gates, I can see all the peasants walking about, with young and elderly women carrying various vegetables, and little boys and girls running throughout the main street. The whole place exudes a vibrant, bustling energy unlike Murond's, and I can't help but be attracted to the town.

Is this what life in a town is like?

I wouldn't really know.

I walk inside, tossing the core of my apple off to the side. Maybe in ten or twenty years it will grow into a fine apple tree?

With my valise safely in my right hand, I nod at a knight on my left at the gate. He doesn't notice, probably because he looks like he's nodding off. Well, it is early afternoon. I feel a bit sleepy myself, though that's probably because I've been traveling for such a long time.

As I stroll through the city streets, something bumps into me and I fall, landing painfully on my left side. Pushing myself up with my slightly sore left arm, I push aside long locks of hair out of my eyes with the back of my right hand, then look around for my valise...

Where is my valise?

I look around my sprawled body, but my medium-sized wooden traveling box is nowhere to be found.

Through the mass of people in front of me going about their day, I can see a quickly retreating back...and a glimpse of my valise being swung around in one hand.

That's mine!

There is no transition of time between my getting up from the street and my running after the man--suddenly I'm pushing through middle-aged women and stumbling over their children, the word 'thief' on my lips but with no voice behind it. I can't speak, can't do anything but run and keep an eye on this man with the green shirt and my property...

He slips into an alley, and I dart in after him. He stumbles into another side street, this one even smaller, and I almost follow after him, ready to lunge, but when he suddenly skids to a stop I can't help but do the same.

Eh?

Who is that man?

I move so that I'm not right behind the thief, over to the wall on the left side of the small street. In front of the thief, I can see a man dressed in full armor--polished gold. He has a royal-purple length of cloth flowing from his throat to the end of his abdomen, with a golden agrafe at his throat to hold together a cape of a similar color as the cloth. On the front of the cloth is a black marking...the insignia of the Glabados Church. The design of the cape and overhanging cloth are definitely altered, as well as separated, but I'd recognize that overall look anywhere.

A Shrine Knight leader.

His brandy-colored eyes momentarily look over at me, and I can't help but stare right back into them. I'm sure what he sees is just a simple looking young woman, sticking her head from behind the safety of the wall like a curious child.

He smiles slightly and suddenly I can't move.

What a wonderful smile...

He looks over at the thief, whose body language is suggesting that he's about ready to bolt...or attack. The Shrine Knight raises a gauntleted hand--not his sword arm, I hope--to push back an errant lock from his otherwise immaculately slicked back light hair. "Hello," he says, his voice a lightly amused baritone, "that's a nice case you have there. But with the way you've been running around, I won't ask if it's yours."

The thief pulls out a silver dagger, and the knight and I both sigh at the same time.

It always comes down to violence with humans, doesn't it?

With a strangled cry, the thief charges towards the dark-eyed knight, who in return pulls out his sword from its scabbard behind his cape...which strikes me as strange. I've read up a bit on swordplay, and scabbards are usually kept at the hip on the opposite side of the sword hand, unless the knight in question wields magic from the blade.

Magic...?

Holding his sword out in front of him with both hands, the Shrine Knight yells.

"Sleep!"

The sword...it's glowing...

The thief pitches forward and falls face-first onto the cobblestone ground. Smiling widely now, the knight sheathes his sword while walking towards me, picking up my valise on the way. I don't move from the wall and approach him. My feet feel rooted to the ground.

I thought that he was simply a Shrine Knight; 'Shrine' and 'Temple' are used interchangebly for rank, after all.

I've never seen a Temple Knight in action before...

"I'm guessing this is yours, miss?" He smiles, holding out my valise. I take it, nodding slightly.

I feel really strange about all of this...I don't like that he had to put himself out just for me...

"Is something wrong?" he asks, bending over slightly so that we're closer in height. I'm pretty tall for a girl, so it's weird for me to meet a man who has a definite advantage in height.

"N-no..." My heart is racing as I look up at him. "Thank you very much. I don't know what I would've done if you weren't here to...to help..."

He shrugs, gesturing for me to walk with him out of the alleyways. "It seems that you were about to fight him yourself. You're not a knight in training, are you?"

That's an odd question. No one could ever mistake me for a warrior, despite my above-average height. I'm too slim, too pale, and--judging by the difference between the female knights of Murond's and my fashion styles--too feminine. "No, I'm a cataloguer for the Church."

He stops just at the junction where the alley and the main street connect and looks at me with a slightly confused expression on his face. "You wouldn't happen to be from Murond, would you?"

Eh? "Yes. I was just transferred to here, though."

The look of total surprise makes him look young--though, he doesn't look like he's much older than me to begin with. "You're the new cataloguer...er...ah... Miss Reis, right?"

"Y-yes...Reis Dular."

Before, when he rescued my luggage, he seemed a trifle...flippant. That's not a bad thing in the least, but it's kind of unnerving to see such a casual attitude from a man wearing the color of a leader. Now, he just seems...boyish. "Reis Dular, huh? I was supposed to meet you in Bariaus Valley, but I only heard about that just now from Buremonda. I knew I was late, but I never thought you would've just walked over to the castle! And with that thief and all...it must've been fate that we met." He smiles earnestly, and my face becomes red-hot.

Fate...

That's a really big thing to say to someone you barely know...

"Oh, hold on, let me get someone to take care of that thief." He walks off a short distance and flags down a meandering guard. They talk for a bit, then the guard starts jogging in my direction. My rescuer-of-valises yells after him, "He's still asleep! You'll probably have an easier time if you handle him gently!"

"Right, Sir Kadmus!" The guard, just a regular knight, runs past me and into the alley. I walk over to 'Sir Kadmus', and he looks down at me with an odd look on his face.

"Miss Reis, your sleeve is ripped."

I look at my right arm, which is fine, then at my left. Not only is the sleeve ripped in several places and the white material dirty, but my new blue mantle is torn through. 'Protective, strong material' the clerk had told me. "Oh...thank you for telling me, Sir Kadmus." I sigh. Fixing it shouldn't be a problem; I made sure to bring all of my sewing equipment with me.

Do I still have blue thread?

I hear a rustling noise, and suddenly I find myself being covered by...purple? I look up to see Sir Kadmus' look of concentration as he pins the agrafe at my collarbone, holding the cape in place. His eyes move up from the brooch and meet mine. "I can't just let a beautiful girl go indecently around town, especially if she's in employ of the Church," he murmurs.

Beautiful...?

Me?

"No one's ever called me 'beautiful' before..." I whisper, breaking our gaze in favor of admiring the heavy material flowing from my shoulders to my ankles.

He laughs, backing away from me and walking ahead. "Considering that you probably work around a bunch of old, stodgy priests, I would hope not!" I giggle, unwilling to tell him that I haven't worked with anyone for a long time now, and jog up to walk beside him.

He gives me his cape and a compliment, and suddenly I want to meet his pace.

Isn't that strange?

-0-

Sir Kadmus takes me over to the church, located in the center of town and next to a plain-looking castle, which he tells me is named 'The Celestial Light of Saint Ajora'. I find it slightly ironic that a church worshipping Saint Ajora would have such a grand name in the same town where he was caught and subsequently executed.

I find a lot of things about the Church ironic.

"You know, you seem like the type of person who thinks so much that they never bother to have a conversation outside of their mind," Sir Kadmus says casually, slowing down to meet my pace.

Not of my own choice. "Really?"

He stops, giving me a strange look that I can't...it makes me feel kind of bad. Did I insult him without knowing? "You know, if you want to talk I'm right here. I'd like to hear what's going on in your mind."

Now it's my turn to give him a strange look. "You don't like quiet people?" I ask, then I feel like hiding for saying something as stupid as that.

"Well, I appreciate peace and quiet just as much as the next person," he says quietly, "but you seem guarded. Like you're not used to being around people for too long."

I lower my eyes. What can I say to that?

It's the truth.

"Miss Reis, I...I'm sorry. I said something I shouldn't have, right?" His tone is one of worry, which makes me feel absolutely horrid. I mean, here he is, being so completely kind to me from the first moment we met, and all I'm doing is making him feel bad just because I'm...

God. I hate this about myself.

"...I..." I try to speak, but I don't know what to say, except for, "I'm sorry," to which he doesn't respond. Does he want me to expand on my thoughts? I close my eyes in an effort to try to calm down. When I open them again, his concerned brandy-red eyes are staring into my own eyes, like he's trying to read me.

I wonder...is that possible?

"Go on," he says slowly, comfortingly. "I'm listening."

"I'm just not used to someone caring about me as much as you have, I suppose. And so suddenly. I'm...I'm used to being alone. I don't even have any friends..."

God, I'm telling him too much...

"Is that so?" he says lightly. "Well then, we'll have to do something about that."

...What?

He holds out his right hand, smiling as he looks into my eyes. "I'm Beowulf Kadmus, the leader of the Lionel Holy Knights." He pauses, then tilts his head slightly. "And you are?"

Looking into those burnished red depths, I feel as if I could drown in his compassion, his sincerity.

That doesn't seem so bad.

"...I'm Reis Dular, one of the head cataloguers of the Glabados Church in Murond," I whisper, reaching out with my right hand. "It's...it's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Kadmus."

Grasping my hand lightly with his own, he shakes his head slightly. "Beowulf. We're friends here, after all. Right, Reis?"

...Friends?

With Sir...with Beowulf...

And, for the first time in years, a smile bursts out from me before I even think of making the effort for one. "Yes..." I hear myself speak, but it's like I'm not even rooted on the ground.

The way he says my name...

He squeezes my hand and I can feel his warmth even through the metal of his gloves.

I feel so warm...

"Beowulf! Is that you over there?"

Calmly, Beowulf turns around--letting go of my hand in the process--and calls out, "Yes!"

I bring my right hand up to my heart, placing my left hand over it, trying to revive that warmth I just felt.

Nothing.

Good things never last very long.

Beowulf's friend approaches from the church, dressed in the robes of a high-level priest. He has the golden hair common for Ivalicians, cut appropriately short. His light blue eyes dart from Beowulf to me, quizzical. "Excuse me," he says in a soft, moderated voice, "you are Miss Dular from Murond?" I nod, not exactly feeling charitable enough to add anything else. He frowns slightly. "Why is she wearing your cape, Beowulf?"

Looking over at Beowulf, I see his facial expression harden just a little.

I can't tell the truth because, by the looks of it, this priest might be Beowulf's superior. I don't like lying, but I... "Oh, I was feeling cold, so he graciously offered to let me borrow it," I murmur.

The priest suddenly looks pleased. "Of course, Beowulf is a true knight through and through."

Beowulf smiles slightly at me, and suddenly lying isn't so bad at all.

Well, we're friends, right?

The priest doesn't notice, so caught up as he is in reciting my 'accomplishments' to me. "I've heard a lot about you, Miss Dular. It's said that you have a very capable memory, as well as the ability to translate ancient Ivalician. And you look incredibly young, I must say. How old are you?"

...He certainly seems impressed with me. "I've just turned twenty-one as of a month ago."

"Once again, I'm simply amazed. I'm sure you will bless the Church with your contributions for years to come." He takes a deep breath, his hands in the standard format for prayer. "For as long as St. Ajora wills it."

"Buremonda," Beowulf says quietly, "Miss Dular has just arrived here, and I'm sure she's feeling very tired."

Buremonda looks over at me, a look of alarm creasing his not-too-old, not-too-young face. I think, if I had to place an age on him, I'd say he was in his early thirties. "I'm terribly sorry! Let me take you to your room...will you require supper?"

"I...that sounds fine," I say quickly, looking over at the still form of Beowulf. Isn't he coming? He shakes his head when he notices me.

"Miss Dular, I live over at the barracks, being a knight and all." He smiles and something inside me flutters. "You can borrow my cape for as long as you like. I don't wear this armor very often anyway. I'll see you around, alright?"

"I..." I hold my gaze on him for a moment longer, then nod. "Of course. Thank you very much...Sir Kadmus."

I turn and follow Buremonda, wishing...wishing I had called Beowulf by his first name.

Wishing that he had called me by mine.

There it is with those regrets again.

-0-

"Thank you very much, Priest Buremonda." I bow slightly when we reach what is now my new room, in the quarters of the priests and mages of the Church. He opens the door for me and I step inside. It looks like my room back in Murond, with just a bed occupying the small space. There's a window in the wall that my bed is shoved against. Judging by the position of the area, the room can easily receive all of the morning sun. That's a pretty subtle way to wake up an employee...

"Since we will be working together, please call me Verden." I look away from my room and at that omnipresent smile of Buremonda's.

It's a nice smile. I wish I could smile all the time like that.

"...Alright. Then, call me Reis." It'd be rude if I didn't say that, right?

"I would be more than happy to, Reis." He lowers his head slightly. "Shall I bring your supper to you now?"

I look away, at the bed just a few steps away. "I think I'll take a short nap, then I'll find the kitchen. Thank you very much...Verden."

"As you wish, Reis. Please come to the main library at nine tomorrow morning, and I'll tell you what needs to be done." He smiles serenely at me--moreso than usual--then leaves. I close my door, drop my valise and flop down onto my bed, which seems to require a shorter person than myself. Closing my eyes, I think back on the events of the day.

I'm here, back in the Lionel province after eight years.

Eight years too short.

I've met Sir Beowulf Kadmus and now we're...friends.

I've met Priest Verden Buremonda and we're associates, I suppose.

I guess I won't be allowed to be alone.

Do I want to be alone? Nothing's for sure in this world. A person can be nice at first, but then they grow cold and go away.

Maybe...maybe that's what will happen in the end.

Maybe I'll be left alone again.

Slowly, I curl up so that my knees are almost touching my chest, and I reach over and wrap myself in Beowulf's cape. I let myself sink into the warmth of the thick material.

Beowulf, are you that type of person?

Maybe...maybe I'm expecting too much from you.

Maybe.

-End of Two-

And so, it all begins...

Reviewers!

Luna-chan, I didn't think I'd be able to talk to you for awhile since I'm not really willing to write Shidareyanagi for now. Thank you for your review of Last Night of the Firefly, by the way. Yeah, I've come to really like FFT...the funny thing is, I bought it at Otakon last year! How did you like Otakon this year?

Comments, questions and the like are always appreciated!


	3. 3: The Gentle Priest, Verden Buremonda

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Three: The Gentle Priest, Verden Buremonda

-0-

_Reis! Come play with us!_

Brown hair.

_Big sister!_

Amber eyes.

_You're always so slow!_

Two sets.

_Hurry up! We don't have all day!_

Wait...

Eyes open. Wince. Shut tight.

Bright.

Why is it bright?

Slowly I open my eyes again, and the light becomes nearly unbearable.

Morning...my room doesn't face the east...

I sit up and nearly choke myself in the process. Easier to fall back and sink into the warmth and close my eyes and what's this?

Purple...

Oh. Right. I'm not in Murond anymore. This is Lionel. My homeland, Lionel. And this purple isn't my purple, it's Beowulf's purple.

Cape.

I meant cape. It's Beowulf's purple cape. God, a color isn't an object unless it's an orange. What am I thinking?

...It's probably too early to be awake.

Work. Right. I have to go to work. Let me just undo this brooch after a few more minutes of sleep...

-0-

I slip on a long-sleeved white shirt, ruefully looking around at all the clothes strewn all over my floor. Too many clothes, made over the years by my admittedly unprofessional hands. Indigo to peach, violet to rust, all these colors inhabit my once-bare floor like colorful snow.

All that, just for a white shirt.

Bending over in my white shirt and brown boots, I sift through the clothes until I find a modest peach dress. Ah. I didn't make this.

Perfect for work.

-0-

As I wander around the church, hopelessly lost, I can't help but notice its unique design. I'm walking in one of the inside corridors, yet...I'm not. The doors that lead into rooms are on my right, and on my left is a wall...but not really. There are huge sections taken out of the wall, so it's like being outside even though I'm inside the church.

This design is very unorthodox. I like it.

Maybe the reason I'm lost is because I keep looking outside at the town, with all the people walking around, instead of paying attention to where I'm going...

_--_dingdingDONGdingding--

Ah...!

The bells chime loudly, and I cover my ears in pain. They ring continuously in excruciating tones, with spikes of pain jutting through my head at each

_--_DONG--

...Ow...

They stop. Thank God. I lower my hands from my ears and run them through my hair. Even after years of having these sensitive senses, I just can't get used to church bells. If I weren't a ward of the Church I'd live far away from any establishment with unnecessarily loud bells. I might go to Hell when I die, but at least I'd have some peace before death.

I sigh.

Can't think blasphemous thoughts, Reis, you're in church.

Anyway, main library. I look ahead to the end of the hall. Hm, double doors just ahead. That looks like a good place to check. I walk over to them and pull at the handle.

A musty sigh smashes into my face. Ah, this must be the right place.

I step inside. It's just as bright in here as it is outside in the hall. I look up. There's no ceiling...glass?

I've heard about something like that...a skylight.

A skylight in a library?

"Ah, Reis, welcome to the pride and joy of the 'Celestial Light'." A warm chuckle follows that remark. Lowering my gaze to eye level, I am greeted by Verden's cheerful face.

That's right, this church is called 'The Celestial Light of Saint Ajora'...

"So...the reason this church has that name is because of this skylight?" I point upward, as if he didn't notice the huge ceiling of glass over our heads.

Predictably, he smiles at my assumption. "I didn't think you would be familiar with the concept of a 'skylight', since they have only been in style with the more outrageous castles. But yes, this church is renowned for that particular idea. There is another skylight over the meeting hall, but the nave itself only has stained glass windows." He pauses, staring at me. "You've undoubtedly noticed the hallways?"

I nod. It seems like he says this a lot.

"This church is so named for a reason. Even if this is a closed building, we will let in as much of the Lord's light as He will allow us."

"What about when it rains?" I blurt out.

Verden stares at me for a long moment, then grins. "That's why we use glass."

I giggle, feeling like an idiot.

Turning towards the center of the room, he motions for me to follow him. I do so, looking at all the bookcases. Everything looks in order and even dusted, something I've never liked doing.

In fact, everything looks too in order. At least, too much to transfer a cataloguer out of Murond.

Four tables stand in the middle of the library, two on the left and two on the right. A number of chairs reside around each table. There are a few books on the table closest to me, the lower righthand table. The titles are in ancient Ivalician.

"Please, have a seat," Verden offers, sitting down at the table. I take the seat across from him, looking at the book in front of me.

Prophecies of Saint Ajora as dictated to Bariaus.

That name...

"As you've most likely noticed, this library really doesn't need a cataloguer. The reason why I've asked for your transfer here is because of your translation skills." Verden looks at me, something hidden in his light blue eyes.

It makes me feel weird...oddly pleased.

Is that admiration?

Wait a minute. He asked for my transfer? But... "I was told by the High Priest that it was to Examiner Draclau that I would be transferred to..."

"Well, Examiner Draclau is traveling to conduct some heresy trials, then he is due in Bervenia for his confirmation to become a cardinal. While he is gone, Beowulf and I are to lead Lionel province in his stead."

Beowulf...he has the same status as Verden...?

It didn't seem like that yesterday...

Hm.

"Oh, I see. So, you just need me to translate...?" I ask, looking at the book in front of me again.

Ah...Bariaus...

"Yes. Of course, you will still be paid your regular salary. I will evaluate your progress at the end of this month and based on that you may receive a raise." Verden smiles proudly. "After all, Lionel is a very prosperous province."

Of course it is. It's Church-owned, so it has nothing to do with the war...unless the war comes to Lionel again...

I lower my head. "I thank you for your consideration."

Verden waves his hand. "Oh, no, Reis, I must thank you. After all, you are the only translator here."

I glance up at his smiling face, before reaching out for the prophecies book and opening it to the first page.

How important can this work be, if I'm the only translator?

I suppose that's not my concern...

-0-

_Ajora, child of the Holy Spirit Himself, our Lord God and therefore a Holy Spirit as well, his Holiness limited in the scope of His Father, the Holy Spirit Himself, our Lord God; however, this is not to say that His Father, the Holy Spirit Himself, our Lord God has any limit whatsoever concerning His own Holiness, but rather that Ajora Glabados, child of the Holy Spirit Himself, our Lord God, was borne into a human form--but not a human in spirit since he is the child of the Holy Spirit Himself, our Lord God--and that had limited his Holiness, although in such miniscule ways that it is not worth mentioning..._

I stop writing. This took me an hour to translate? That didn't even say anything of importance! Not only is that the longest run-on sentence I've ever seen, but it's not even done yet!

I hate theology. No, I'll amend that. I hate Bariaus' lousy writing skills.

"Ah, Reis, you don't look very pleased with your work."

I look up from my work as Verden places a white bottle in front of the tome I've been translating. "How can you tell?" I ask wryly.

Verden sits down across from me, chuckling lightly. "Your eyes are flashing like a storm cloud." He reaches out and taps the top of the bottle. "I'm amazed at your diligence. It's already almost three. You must be hungry by now, so I brought you some milk."

I look up. The sun's position has moved drastically from when it was nine. "I can't believe I spent six hours working on that preface," I mutter, moving that book and my notepad aside to bring my bottle forward. I pry off the top with my left hand and bring the opening to my lips...ah...creamy... "Ah...thank you very much, Verden," I say after finishing off half the bottle. He waves his hand in dismissal, his face alight with that gentle smile that always seems to grace his face.

He's such a kind man. I wish the priests back in Murond were more like him instead of huddling together with their own kind.

"You know, you look even more lovely than the last time I saw you," he says, and I pause.

I've...no, I've never seen him before. "I don't remember...?"

He leans back in his chair. Although he is obviously at least ten years older than I, he has a very delicate facial structure that makes him look younger...slightly androgynous. And with that gentle curving of his lips and those light blue eyes which almost seem aglow with peace...he looks like a painting of an angel brought to life.

Serene.

I feel so plain next to him...

He laughs, and by the way he's smiling I know he isn't laughing at me and my suddenly faulty memory. "You didn't see me, but I saw you. It was over five years ago, when I was in Murond for my confirmation to become a higher-ranked priest. Let me tell you..."

-0-

(Murond, March of Pantora 42)

Verden Buremonda stood in a group of his peers, not so much listening to them expound on theological ideas as he was taking in the mild March day. The climate was similar to Lionel province, as both Murond and Lionel were in the same area, latitude-wise, of Ivalice. He had always enjoyed coming to Murond for this reason, especially this time because he was due to be blessed by the High Priest tonight.

Gold passed by his eyes, and he had to blink in the wake of its beauty.

A young girl stood just before him, head turned in such a way that she did not notice his staring. Although she wore rather plain clothes, signifying that she was either a pilgrim from somewhere in war-torn Ivalice or perhaps employed by the Church for menial labor, she had a presence that belied all that.

She had long hair, a veritable golden waterfall flowing down to the small of her back. There was a thick strand of it blocking off the side of her face, but he was content with what was before him.

It was enough.

She turned, so that most of her face was available for his eyes to assess. While there was a blank expression on her face, suggesting that she was someone who didn't readily show her feelings, she still had a lovely face.

Light brown eyes. High cheekbones. Creamy light skin.

"Priest Buremonda..."

Verden turned back to his companions, flushing guiltily at having been caught staring at a woman. He held his appointment as a priest very seriously.

But she had a presence far beyond a woman decades older than she, almost inhuman...

"Did you need to talk to that cataloguer about a book or something, Buremonda?"

"I..."

He did want to see her.

"...Yes, but I don't even know her name."

Tell me her name, his eyes silently begged.

One of the older priests spoke up. "Her name is Reis Dular. The newest head cataloguer, if I remember correctly. A cold woman. You're best off getting your books from another cataloguer."

Verden understood the implied order and obeyed.

-0-

Hearing this from Verden's perspective, one would think that I was an amazing woman in all aspects. Presence...beauty...

_--I can't just let a beautiful girl go indecently around town, especially if she's in employ of the Church_--

As long as I have a beautiful cocoon, will no one care what sleeps inside?

_--You know, you seem like the type of person who thinks so much that they never bother to have a conversation outside of their mind_--

He would've talked to me, if he had seen me then.

Well, maybe.

"Reis? Is something wrong?"

"No." My answer is instantaneous. "I was just thinking...it would've been nice if you had talked to me that day."

It's not like I was looking for a friend that day. I remember. I was looking for the cloth peddler, who only comes to Murond once a month.

Verden smiles brightly. "Well, at least I can talk to you now."

Hn. "Yes, that's true."

I don't believe that at all. To say 'well, in the end everything turned out all right' may sound right, in accordance with God's will, but...is that really right?

Is just relying on God really all right?

Is that really faith...or dependence?

_--It must've been fate that we met_--

Fate...

"May I ask what you are thinking about?"

"Fate," I blurt out. At Verden's confused expression, I try to explain myself. "Do you believe that there is such thing as fate?"

His eyes shift away from me as his chin lowers to rest on a propped-up hand. "Do you mean 'fate' as in the ultimate fate of all those devoted to the Glabados faith?"

I blink. That's pretty far from what I was thinking. "I mean, that each person has a predestined course on which to run their lives, that there is a power that controls and sets up events...such as an accidental meeting."

"A power other than God?" He doesn't look too happy about that.

"Well...or that God, perhaps, may hold that power..."

"While God is an omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient being, he decreed through his son Saint Ajora that people are beings imbued with free will, blessed so long as they follow his son's words." Verden pauses, staring at me strangely. "Of course, you knew that already, didn't you?"

I did... "Yes, of course."

...But it doesn't seem like everyone does.

"I just like to think about other faiths in correspondence with my own, that's all."

'My own'. Wow. That's appropriately vague.

"Hm..." Now he has his normal serene expression. "A true intellectual, I see. However, God gave us the gift of free will under some rules of common sense. So please, think about subjects with more value to them."

I almost want to argue.

_Who are you to dictate what I think about?_

Almost.

_You are like the corporeal body of the Church, and I am the Church's ward..._

But there wouldn't be any value to that. Some people would rather die than change their beliefs.

That's why there are heretic examiners and Temple Knights and...

_--It must've been fate that we met_--

I...I'm looking into this too much.

I'm looking into him too much.

I push my chair back and stand. "I think I'll just start again tomorrow. Thank you for your kindness, Verden."

"Of course." He stands as well. "But please get something to eat first. You already look so thin."

I nod, turn and leave.

-0-

My room is clean now, with all my clothes folded nicely into my valise. I'm on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, completely surrounded by the darkness.

I'd like to grab my valise and run back to Murond.

Back into my anonymous life.

Back in emotional stasis.

It's safer that way.

_--I'd like to hear what's going on in your mind_--

I'd like for you to get out of my mind...but...

Even if it's just your voice, it's nice to know that I'm not alone.

-End to Three-

Love triangles, to me, always end in tragedy. In the end, someone is always left out, and even the people who are together have to live with the fact that they caused that hurt. It would be easy to paint Buremonda as the 'bad guy', and make it a story of true love and the evil that gets in the way, but...no. That would be too easy, and less painful.

And less true.

Religion is not my forte...well, not Christianity and Catholicism and the likes. We only see the Glabados church doing political things within the game, so I thought I'd expand a bit on the religious part of the Church. Maybe I failed, but maybe it actually looks okay.

Reviewers!

Mavina, thank you very much! I'm trying to make this into a very good story, but I'm afraid that romance isn't the easiest thing for me to write about. I'm assuming that, by your comment, there are Reis/Beowulf stories around? Please point me towards one or two of them, I've not found any yet!

All comments and questions are always appreciated! But if you're just reading and reserving your judgment for later, I respect that as well. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4: A Friendly Outing (_the thread tied around my finger_): "So, do you often go to these 'restaurants' with women?"


	4. 4: A Friendly Outing

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Four: A Friendly Outing (_the thread tied around my finger_)

-0-

_And Six of Twelve shall rise, for Six is the cursed number, and Six and Six should equal to Twelve, a neutral number for while Six of Twelve is cursed, Six of Twelve shall be blessed by me, the son of our Lord God, and so the forces of Heaven and Hell shall be equal, for both Good and Evil lie unbidden in every man's heart._

...Right. Whatever you say, Saint Ajora. It's not so much what you're saying so much as the long-winded way you're saying it that really irritates me. And here I thought I was going blind from categorizing tomes dedicated to these preachings; I didn't realize that I should be blaming the source itself.

And really, 'for both Good and Evil lie unbidden in every man's heart'? You don't have to be a saint to realize something as obviously human as that.

Even I knew that.

Maybe I'm being bitter about this, but spending over a week on this is really starting to dig into me. I may have reached Ajora's prophecies, but that just means that there's a new contender for 'worst user of the Ivalician language'.

I bite my lip. Yes, definitely being bitter.

"Reis, you appear quite stressed."

Slowly I raise my head and look over at Verden, who's standing beside my table with a look of concern creasing his angelic face. "I'm sorry to worry you, Verden..." I lean back in my chair and stretch out. "It's just a chore to get through all this."

He looks at me strangely. "A chore to get through our savior's words?"

Well... "Actually, it's just the language...since ancient Ivalician is so dense and all..."

"Oh, I wish I knew what you meant." Verden looks away. "I wish I could assist you with the translation process."

"You've helped me a lot, more than enough," I say. I've been working from morning until evening every day since I've arrived. Verden has always been so kind to me, going as far as to bring me food from the kitchen and forcing me to take breaks every few hours.

With such a kind person as Verden Buremonda, it's no wonder that there are evil people. After all, there has to be a balance.

"That's not true," he says as he places an envelope on the table. I look at it. About the size of my hand, brown, unobtrusive. I look up at him. "Reis, you deserve it. Please, take it and don't worry about coming in for work tomorrow."

Well...

-0-

I love sewing.

When I hold a needle and thread in one hand, ready to mend, to create...I don't think. I just act.

That's a nice feeling.

Now, I need to fix my mantle. The tear in it isn't as bad as I first thought it was, but I'm not sure I have enough thread. Well, I can always go out and buy more thread if need be.

Armed with my needle in my right hand, I begin mending my falsely-advertised mantle.

_--_tck--

...Ah. The thread broke. Oh well.

I lay my mantle and needle to one side of my bed and stand up, heading over to my valise. Lots and lots of clothes, so many choices...

I don't know why, but that makes me smile.

I don't have work today...is it okay to be a little daring?

It...would be a shame to never wear anything that I've made, after all...

-0-

As I walk out of the church, the blueness of the sky, the brightness of the sun...they strike me as beautiful. The vastness, the clarity, unmarred by even swishes of cloud-material...

There's no way to absorb all this purity, even with glass in the ceilings and holes in the walls.

Only man's egotism would allow him to even consider it.

What a glorious April day.

I stroll into Lionel's shopping center. It looks utterly unchanged from when I arrived, only a little over a week ago. It's as bustling as ever, with all sorts of people swarming around the outside food stalls and entering brick-walled stores. The aroma of chicken stew wafts right under my nose, and my stomach growls in response. I pat my hips, where the pockets of my skirt are, feeling the tiny bulges of my money.

Do I have enough gil to buy an early lunch?

A child bumps into my leg, then scurries off, throwing back a rushed apology. He meets up with an older woman--probably his mother--who promptly scolds him for not looking at where he's going.

Mama never scolded us, not even when we ran around the house and disrupted her concentration. She'd look at us in exasperation and shake her head...

...Stop that.

Thread. I need thread.

Right.

I pat down my pockets again. Even though I'm not carrying a bag this time, who knows how brazen thieves are these days? I mean, someone's already tried to make off with my valise in broad daylight already, and this is the capital of a Church-owned province. This is the last place I would expect such behavior...or maybe it's easier to believe that because of Murond's absolute sanctity.

People are really desperate now...

Anyway, I can't just stay in one place. Looking around, I see nothing that resembles a clothing store or a cloth peddler. Alright, I'll just keep moving then.

I catch the eye of a man passing by, who nudges another man beside him and points at me.

A woman, just a bit older than me, looks at me disdainfully.

Two teenage girls glower at me.

I lower my gaze and just keep walking.

"That woman's no peasant..."

"Perhaps a noble?"

"A foreigner?"

"Look at her...pro'ly thinks she's better than us with those clothes..."

That's not true at all...

People...don't seem to realize how much errant words hurt.

Why is it human nature to tear at something until they're superior to it? From war down to petty insults...

Why?

We just wanted to live peacefully...we didn't want to get involved...but you...and you...

Human nature is to be cruel, isn't it?

I want no part of it!

Just leave me alone!

I feel gloved fingers on my shoulder.

Are you going to push me down again? Are you going to steal from me again? Are you going to hurt me again?

No!

Eyes clamped shut, I spin around and throw a punch at my assailant.

I won't let you hurt me again!

My fist makes contact with clothed hardness. Fingers pour over my closed hand.

No...

"Good morning, Reis."

Ah...that voice...

Dreading what I know I'm going to see, I slowly open my eyes. Looking resplendent in a black uniform with gold buttons and a white scarf with one end rippling past the collarbone area is a smiling Beowulf.

Oh, God.

"B-Beowulf..."

I just tried to _hit_...

I...I think I would've preferred to see another thief...

"Did I surprise you?" He smiles like the twins did that one time they...

Stop that.

Issue at hand: Did Beowulf surprise me?

"Surprise me? Of course you did! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!" I haven't given in to anger in a long, long time, but...but...

I haven't needed to in such a long time.

"I apologize," he says with that smile still on his face. "I was calling your name and you didn't respond, so I thought I'd just...were you having a conversation with yourself?"

My flaring anger dwindles down to ash.

_--We were just playing around, Reis, you don't have to be like a behemoth and bite off our heads...look, you even made Quain cry_--

I sigh. "I'm sorry,

_--Tyrei_--

Beowulf, I was just thinking, that's all. I'm sorry for overreacting, that's just what

_--a big sister does_--

I do sometimes."

"Don't worry about it," he says easily. "I think I understand. But...are you training to be a monk or something?" My fist is squeezed a couple times, and I realize that he's still holding my hand.

He caught my fist before I was going to hit him. He must have great reflexes.

Well, of course he does. He's an elite knight, right?

But...does that really mean anything? Those people...all they know how to do is swing around a sword and make colorful explosions. Beowulf must be really good at defensive measures.

But...why didn't he let go of my hand earlier? "Um, Beowulf...could you please let go of my hand?"

It's not as if I mind, but...

"Sorry," he says, releasing my hand and looking away.

This is awkward...

Say something, Reis! You've been thinking about this man's words all week, and now he's in front of you. Ask him about fate. Ask him about beauty. Just...

"Um, so...what are you doing here?"

...Just don't ask stupid questions like that.

"I just got off patrol, actually. I'm on my way over to the barracks." He pauses. "And what about you?"

"I'm looking for a clothing store so I can buy some thread."

See, that wasn't so bad...

Beowulf looks at me blankly for a moment, then smiles at me in that friendly manner of his. "Would you like me to help you?"

I can spend some time with him... "That...would be really nice of you."

"Alright." He grins. "Do you mind if we go over to the barracks first? I should at least check in."

-0-

While the church is on one side of the 'castle', which isn't half as grand as the word implies, the barracks for the knights are on the other side. It's a plain building, which seems to be the theme in this town for everything other than the church, as well as utterly devoid of people.

Beowulf stops at the door of the barracks. "Reis, could you wait out here for a second?"

I nod. I wonder why he asked me that?

Hm...I suppose there are things in there that aren't meant for a female's eyes.

He smiles and opens the door, leaving it ajar as he walks inside. I study the tips of my black boots. I like boots, but they're so hard to make...

"Ah, Kadmus, you're a bit late."

Oh. I guess I made him late...

"Chiroseau, just the person I was looking for. I'm going out again."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm helping a friend." A pause. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm just surprised. It only took you three years to make friends with people outside of the Order."

This Chiroseau...he sounds gruff. I think he's older than Beowulf...

I hear Beowulf chuckle. It's a nice sound. "Yeah, she's a cataloguer. You know, the one that Buremonda transferred over from Murond."

"Ah, I see." A rough laugh. "Buremonda's not going to like this, I'll bet."

...Why?

"Well, maybe it'll give him something new to complain about. He's been complaining about security measures enough as is. Reis would be a welcome topic."

I didn't need to know that...that's embarrassing...

"Right, right, go have fun. I can't finish my letters with you around."

Beowulf laughs. "Now you sound just like Buremonda, blaming me for everything. I'll be back later."

I'm getting the impression that Beowulf and Verden don't get along...although it seems that Beowulf doesn't seem to mind...or care.

Hm.

"Did I keep you waiting long?" I look up into Beowulf's easy-going expression, into those dark red eyes.

Red...

"No, not at all." And as we begin walking back to the shopping area, I try to open up a new discussion. "I'm surprised that you know where the clothing store is."

Just because he lives in Lionel...I mean, he's a man, and a knight at that. This isn't a stupid statement.

I hope.

"Actually..." He smiles sheepishly down at me. "I don't know where it is either."

"Please don't look at me like that," he says, still smiling.

"Like what?" I manage out. I'm starting to see red, and it's not his eyes...

"Like...like you're going to take my sword and run me through with it?" Oh, look, there's his sword, strapped across his back. How convenient that he would remind me, "It reminds me of Sis too much."

Who? "'Sis'?"

"Yeah, my big sister." He stops giving me that worried smile, dropping it in favor for a more fond expression. "When we were both kids, she'd give me that look...I'd always imagined that's how a demon would look at its prey."

With those red eyes, I can only imagine...

"But, you know, she always did look better with a smile on her face." The look that Beowulf is throwing at me feels like he's examining me. "You do, too."

Oh... "Really?"

"Well, most people do."

Oh. "I see."

"But I think that you look beautiful, even with a glare on your face." A grin spreads across his face. "You're really one of a kind."

My face feels hot...this man...

How can I trust my emotions around him when he can play them like a musical instrument?

I look away. "What kind of person are you, saying all these things so easily?"

Why can't I be more like you?

"An honest one, I suppose." He sounds proud.

Honest? More like brave.

I look around, trying not to initiate eye contact with him. God only knows what sort of embarrassing exchange will happen next. Ah, back in the shopping area already?

Mm...I can smell that chicken stew again...

"Reis, are you hungry?"

I look at him, startled. I didn't realize I looked so starved... "Um, a little."

He looks relieved. "Oh, good. I had to patrol in the early morning, so I didn't get any breakfast." He looks around, then his expression brightens. "Oh, that's a good restaurant over there."

Restaurant...? "What is...a restaurant?"

Beowulf looks at me with a stunned expression. "You don't...well, ah, they're places where you can buy and eat food. There's a lot of them where I'm from."

Okay, a restaurant is like a cafeteria, except that you purchase the food. "I see...I'm sorry, but in Murond there are no restaurants."

"Ah, I see," he says, walking over to this...store with tables outside...and inside, from what I can see. "Well, I go to this restaurant all the time."

Oh. It's a cozy-looking place. I can't imagine a group of men descending upon this place for a meal. Maybe to a bar, but not here. "So, do you often go to these 'restaurants' with women?"

Beowulf stares at me. It's a weird kind of stare that makes me feel that I shouldn't have gotten comfortable enough to just toss out random questions like that. What does it matter to me if Beowulf is often accompanied by women when he goes out to eat?

After a good minute or so of this staring, he begins to laugh.

God, I think I'd like to die now. Please.

He looks at me, completely open with his laughter, with the fact that he's...happy.

He...he's like a little boy...

_--Okay, what are you two laughing about now?_--

"Hahaha...wow, thanks for even asking." He smiles, straightening up and running a hand through his slicked-back hair. "Do I really seem like that type?"

By 'that type', I guess he means the type that is often with a girl. I've seen that sort at Murond. "Well...I don't know. I don't know you very well, you know."

Thoughtfully, Beowulf looks at me. "Believe me, Reis, the last time I talked to a woman was when I last saw Sis." Suddenly his serious look is overtaken by a grin. "But thanks, I needed that. Talk about a confidence boost...shall we eat?"

Confidence boost...?

He seems to be nothing but confident!

At least, on the outside. On the inside he could be someone completely different.

He could be just like me...

That almost makes me want to laugh. That just doesn't seem possible at all.

-0-

This restaurant has something called a 'menu' which displays what sort of foods and drinks they're serving. It's actually on two pieces of large paper, this menu, and it's a relief to be reading something in plain Ivalician.

Beowulf, sitting across from me at our outdoor table, is studying his menu, laid flat on the table, with an unusually intense expression. Well, as long as he keeps looking at his menu like that, I can look at him from behind my upraised menu.

Unlike Verden, Beowulf has a very masculine sort of face. It's not delicately beautiful like Verden's, but it is pleasing to look at. Handsome, I think the word is. Anyway, his face is more 'open' than Verden's. He doesn't look serene when he smiles, he looks...

Alive. Not like a glorious painting of an angel, but like an everyday living person.

Then there are his eyes. Those brandy eyes that are a shade within the color of a red dragon's hide, but just a little darker.

I remember that shade well...

I think that Beowulf has longish hair, but he always seems to have it slicked back. It's lighter than my own hair, which isn't even the gold it used to be.

I feel...I feel equal with Beowulf. He doesn't look like an unattainable angel like Verden, and I also think that Beowulf would listen and understand me more than Verden.

_--So please, think about subjects with more value to them_--

A lot more.

And his personality...it's so...so...lively. Being with him like this, it's hard to imagine that he's the leader of all the knights protecting this city...this province. He's impractical and will go out of his way to help someone, even if he doesn't know where to go.

But I really like him, all the same.

I wish I was as outgoing as he is.

If I stay with him like this...could I become more like that?

"Reis?"

"Yes?" I ask automatically. Beowulf points discreetly at this woman standing next to our table...she called herself our 'waitress'. Oh...oops. Looking down at my menu, the first thing I notice is

_Selseta Salad_: A salad with Selseta plants from Bariaus Hill, served with light dressings.

"I'll take this and a cup of tea." I show the waitress what I want and she nods and writes something down on a pad of paper, then collects our menus. Then she leaves, and it's just me and Beowulf again.

"So...why are you looking for a clothing shop, anyway?" he asks, looking at me with interest.

"Oh, I wanted to mend my mantle, but I ran out of thread."

He nods slightly, as if something suddenly made sense. "You must be really good with that sort of thing. You made that outfit you're wearing now, right?"

I stare at him. "Y-yes, I did."

If I was him, I don't think I would've connected a habit of sewing to my clothes. But, I guess my clothes must be strange enough for that sort of conjecture.

"I thought so. Your blouse looks exactly like a male squire's shirt...except for the color." He looks at me a little oddly. "And it doesn't have a neck and a hood."

He's absolutely right. I get most of my ideas from job class clothing. This blouse is a deep blue, and it has the large sleeves and tight, long torso. But instead of tights under it, I decided on a long, white skirt and a pair of traveling boots. I also put up my hair, which I normally have at shoulder-length and down, into a ponytail...well, except for those two pieces that fall beside my face.

I just didn't think that so many people would hate me because of my clothes.

Everything's different...

"To be honest, I like how you look." He looks so serious that I can't help but smile.

"Really?"

Please, tell me that again.

"Yes, really." He smirks. "You should buy a mirror so you can see just how pretty you are all the time."

Again.

"Why should I, when I can just go to you?"

Look at how you're influencing me already...

That small smirk on his face turns into a full-blown smile. "That's fine too."

Oh God, this is too much.

This man...is too much.

_--That's fine too_--

...Yes.

Yes, it kind of is.

-0-

I sit on my bed, holding a bag full of thread and sample cuttings from different cloth.

The sun sets at five. It's six-thirty right now.

I can't finish mending my mantle, but this was a good day anyway.

-End to Four-

Maybe not as deep as last chapter, or maybe deep in its own way? You decide!

Reviewers!

Black Griffin, I appreciate your comments, but...this is supposed to be a romance fic. What are you going to say once the story gets all sappy-ish? I'm a little pained just to think about it...  
I'm happy you're liking the story so far, though. I hope you'll like it even when it starts fulfilling the 'romance' genre!

Mavina, thank you for the link. Yeah, your first review wasn't eaten up, so I erased the second one because I didn't want to 'balloon' my review count. I really appreciated the fact that you wrote it out again, though. I'm not terribly stressing on the religion stuff, but it is an important element of this story. Plus, I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to making sure that everything's correct in the story. By the way...are you a writer as well?

If you have any questions, comments, or whatever about the story, I'd love to hear from you! And if you're reserving your judgment until later/not ever planning on reviewing, well...thank you for reading anyway!

Chapter 5: Paperweight (_weighing down my soul_): "Well, I don't know about you, but being on the battlefield for most of my life wasn't exactly conducive to finding a nice girl to bring home to meet my sister."


	5. 5: Paperweight

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Five: Paperweight (_weighing down my soul_)

-0-

"Reis, could you do me a favor?"

I look up and to my left, where Verden is standing with a stack of books in his arms. I lower my pen as he places the stack on the edge of the table. "Of course." My face feels like it's going to split because of my smile. If I do a favor, that means that I won't be reading this book while I'm carrying out the favor! Of course, it just means I'll have to translate later, but I could really use a break. And glass is no substitute for feeling the sun against my skin...

Verden looks sort of embarrassed, which I think is a welcome change from his normal serenity. "I've got to figure out what to say for tomorrow's sermon, but these books need to be delivered to the knights. Could you take these down to them for me?"

I've been attending Sunday sermons faithfully ever since I arrived in Lionel. I don't think I can get away with skipping church in favor of work anymore, just because it's hard to convince myself that I'd rather work than...well, not. I don't normally see Verden on Saturdays because he spends the day writing out his sermons, which I'll admit aren't as bad as reading Saint Ajora's prophecies.

Wait...

Take books over to the knights' barracks.

Knights' barracks...

"I'd love to, Verden," I say, feeling strangely renewed.

My face will crack soon if I keep this smiling thing up, but does that really matter when I actually mean it?

-0-

Verden had warned me that the books were very heavy--which makes me wonder why he asked me to take these books instead of, I don't know, someone who looks like they can handle the weight?--but they're actually pretty manageable. Judging by the titles on the spines of the tomes, they're all about magical applications. The top book's title is Secrets of the Eastern Lands: Basic Oracle Edition.

A spellbook...since Beowulf seems to be pretty learned in magic already, I guess there are other knights training to become Temple Knights.

The knights' barracks are only a short distance away, but it's such a nice day...cloudless, warm, with a slight breeze every once in a while. It's so pleasant for an April midday. Is this Verden's way of getting me outside more often?

He's such a thoughtful person.

As I approach the closed door of the barracks, I can't help but notice that it's as empty now as it was a few days ago. If there's no one there, what do I do with these books?

I smile. I guess that means I'll have to wait until someone arrives...

Shifting the weight of the books so that my right hand supports most of the weight, I reach out and knock on the wooden door with my left hand.

"Come in!" Ah, that's Beowulf's voice. He sounds pretty far away, even with my abnormal hearing. There's no movement inside, so he must be the only person there. I push open the door and walk inside, then pause to take in my surroundings.

Geez. Even goblins live in cleaner surroundings.

This front room is long, then immediately tightens into a hallway. I can hear the shuffling of paper, the occasional scraping of pen against paper beyond the hallway. There are beds along the sides of the room, which are in the 'two-tier' fashion. Haven't seen that in years. There are six on each side, footboards pointing towards the center of the room. There's twenty-four in total.

I scrunch up my nose. It certainly smells like it; sweat and metal and the unique scent of human males make up the composition of the room's air. It's not unbreathable, but I leave the door open anyway. There are windows between each of the beds, giving the room plenty of light, and I fight the urge to open those as well.

By each of the beds are strange things messily holding up various pieces of armor; about a quarter of these things are missing armor.

If six people are on patrol, then where are the other seventeen knights?

...I guess they have lives.

There are various articles of clothing scattered about the room, and I try my best to avoid them as I walk towards the hallway. The set of beds on the left side closest to the hallway seem to be very orderly compared to the general state of the rest of the room, with one set of armor neatly placed on the strange hanger-like thing, and no barrier of clothes surrounding this structure of tiered beds.

...Would it be too much to hope that this nicely-placed armor is Beowulf's?

Adjusting my hold on the books, I make my way through the small hallway and end up in a small office of sorts. There are two open windows on the walls to the left and right of me. This room is mostly bare except for a desk loaded with paper, and at this desk is Beowulf, who seems wholly absorbed with reading something to notice me. I clear my throat and he casually looks up, smiling instantly when he sees me. "What are you doing here?" he asks, although it sounds more like, 'Thank God you're here!'

...I wish.

Wait, what am I thinking? I'm here to deliver books, not think weird thoughts and make him think that I'm 'having a conversation with myself' again. I raise the stack of books in my arms up slightly. "I'm here to deliver these."

He gets up and walks over to me, curiosity his dominant expression as he takes them out of my arms. "Buremonda, huh?" He looks down and reads the top book's title, "I didn't ask for any books," he mutters.

"They aren't for any of the other knights?" The look on his face...he's not pleased about this. He's so open with his feelings, but with that blank look...

"Hn." He looks up from the books to my face, smiling slightly. "It's nothing." He looks at the desk, which resembles a controlled disaster area, then bends down and places the tomes next to the desk. "So, how are you doing? Were you able to fix your mantle?"

"I'm fine." I can't really complain. "I haven't had the time to mend my mantle yet..."

He nods, then walks back to his seat, looking at me after he sits with a rather pained smile. "Sorry, but I've got a lot of paperwork to do."

I can see that. "I didn't think that being a leader entailed so much paperwork..."

"Neither did I, when I first arrived here..." Beowulf shrugs. "But there's so much all the time. I've got to arrange just where new knights should be stationed in Lionel, handle transfers for veteran knights, figure out patrol schedules, deal with prisoners, and decide where the funds that the Church allots to us should go..." He rakes through his hair with both hands, then looks at me tiredly. "Am I boring you?"

"Not at all." I smile. I thought a leader of a group of knights would just be the best at swordplay, not necessarily intelligence. I didn't realize that he would be so busy just keeping up with the functioning of the knights. And he patrols too. Even with all that, he still went out of his way to help me. That's a whole day that he could've spent working. On his desk, there's a whole day's work that he could've already finished, that shouldn't be there now.

I feel a bit guilty, but...

I look down. "Should I leave you alone?"

"No, that's okay," he says quickly, then grins and shakes his head. "I mean, you can stay a while if you like."

And even if I'm a distraction, he still wants me around. I'm not sure why he would want me around, but I know exactly why I want to be around him. He makes me feel...alive.

I like that.

I look around his tiny office...there's nothing really interesting here. Beowulf has gone back to reading and occasionally scribbling something on a paper.

Eh...?

What's this?

On the tallest stack of paper on Beowulf's desk is a stone. It's...pretty; a deep, dark blue and shaped to look vaguely like a pitcher, with two squiggly lines on it.

It looks too nice to be a paperweight...

I reach out and pick it up. It's not too weighty and cool to the touch. "What's this?" I ask him, holding the stone out to him. He looks up, eyes widening slightly at the stone.

"It's a paperweight."

Yes, I realize that. I bring up the stone so that it's eye level with me. "It's kind of...nice to be a paperweight, don't you think?"

Now he looks thoughtful. "It's actually a family heirloom, but it makes a good paperweight."

"You're using a family heirloom as a paperweight?" I ask, feeling slightly incredulous. He looks fairly amused at my words.

"Well, Sis wanted to cut it up and make earrings out of it." He smiles. "Should I have let her?"

That seems worse, actually. I shake my head. "What are these squiggly lines?" I hold the stone out towards him, pointing the lines out with my right index finger. He looks at them, then at me.

"It's a Zodiac sign. Aquarius." He looks faintly surprised that I would ask that. "You do know about the Zodiac signs, don't you?"

I look away. "Yes, but only my own."

"What is it?" He looks interested. Why? Zodiac signs and their meanings don't mean anything.

"Pisces. My birthday's February twenty-sixth."

He makes a small noise as some sort of comprehension flutters across his face. I wish I knew why. "I'm a Libra. October fourth." He looks directly into my eyes, looking pleased. "We're compatible."

I stare at him. Compatible? Yes, I do think we get along pretty well, which really surprises me. I'm pretty happy about it too, I guess... "Thank you for noticing," I say. I didn't realize that Beowulf was dense...

His smile widens. "Can I have my paperweight back?" I shrug and hold it out to him. He grasps it...and my hand. He's not wearing gloves...this is the first time he's touched me without gloves on. His hand is rough and warm...

This is nice...

"Kadmus, why is the door open?" That gruff voice...Chiroseau? I spin around, dropping the stone into Beowulf's hand as I do so, and I take my first look at the man I had heard talking to Beowulf a few days ago.

He's...tall. Maybe even taller than Beowulf? And significantly older than Beowulf, what with that short salt-and-pepper hair and the slight wrinkles gracing his face. He has a masculine facial structure and dark blue eyes, and in a uniform that looks exactly like Beowulf's, black with gold buttons and that scarf. He's in his forties for sure.

"Chiroseau," Beowulf says from his seat behind me, "this is Reis Dular, the cataloguer from Murond. Reis, this is Jeffre Chiroseau. He's second in command here."

Chiroseau smiles at me, nodding slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Reis."

I bow slightly. "Likewise, Sir Chiroseau."

He has something of an accent...is he from northern Ivalice?

Chiroseau looks over at Beowulf. "Still behind?" Beowulf simply sighs in response, and I turn in time to see him write something. The stone--I refuse to think of it as a paperweight--is back on the stack of papers. I look over at Beowulf, and I'm struck with how young he looks compared to Chiroseau. With such an age difference, I would think that the elder would be the leader, and the younger would be the second in command. It seems a bit weird to have it the other way around...especially since Beowulf really looks--acts--like he's a couple years within my age.

"Is something on your mind?"

I look over at Chiroseau. "Well, I was thinking..." I say slowly, and he nods encouragingly, "considering that you _are_ older, why aren't you the leader?"

He looks at me oddly, even as Beowulf's pen still scratches on. "Miss Reis, how old do you think Kadmus is?"

The pen stops its scratching as I look over at a plainly interested Beowulf. Clear, slightly tanned skin, no wrinkles, and that boyish smile... "Around my age, I suppose."

Beowulf gives me an odd look. What's that for?

"And just how old are you, Miss Reis?" I turn back to Chiroseau.

"I'm twenty-one."

The room fills with the chuckling of two men. I feel very stupid now. When I didn't talk, didn't express my thoughts, I wasn't subjected to feeling like an idiot on what seems to be a fairly regular basis. Why did I even start this self-abusive act of opening my mouth and letting words flow?

"Reis..." Beowulf chuckles lightly, "I'm twenty-seven."

...What?

"He doesn't look like it, does he?" Chiroseau says.

Well, that's only a small part of it! "He doesn't act like it," I tell the older knight, and he starts laughing loudly.

"Hey..." Beowulf says, and when I turn to him he smiles at me, "I'll consider that a compliment just because you said it."

I return his smile, feeling embarrassed. I should really watch what I say before opening my mouth.

"Well, that's true that he doesn't act his age," Chiroseau says, moving slightly to the left. Good, now I don't have to keep turning between the two men. "But, that's to his benefit. We call him 'Beowulf the Fair'..."

"'Fair...Haired'?" I ask when it seems as if he is lingering on the word 'fair'.

Chiroseau shakes his head. "No, although that could work too...it's just 'fair'. That's because he's always level-headed and kind at crucial moments. At most, he only gets mildly irritated or fairly annoyed, but in all his time here he's been calm and thoughtful. There aren't many other men who can claim that. That's why he's our leader."

I glance over at Beowulf, who slightly shakes his head when he notices my eyes on him. "That's a bit much..." he says, his cheeks tinged red.

"He is also a magical adept," Chiroseau nods, "it's just too bad his swordplay is horrendous."

Beowulf's slightly embarrassed look quickly modifies itself to a more blank expression as he looks over at Chiroseau. "Thank you."

I lower my head. "Is that why you dispatched that thief with a Temple Knight spell instead of with your sword?"

"Well..." His face looks a bit...pensive? "If bloodshed can be avoided, then that's the best course of action. At least, that's what I think."

He said that...and that hurts, somehow. "Were...were you ever involved in the war?" The question tumbles out of my mouth, and I know I probably shouldn't have asked, but...

"...From a young age. In Lesalia--that's where I'm from--it's nearly impossible to get out of going to war if you're young and able to hold a sword." He smiles in a way that's nearly painful to see, then goes back to reading his papers.

There are a lot of knights in Murond who had participated in the war, and they turned to the Church because the war gets to them, burrows under their skin and never really gets out again. I've heard some of them talk...they never noticed me, but I listened.

I listen, and I remember.

Everyone's affected by the war.

I...

"It's really too bad, but you're lucky," Chiroseau suddenly says. We both look at him. What's so lucky about going to war at a young age? "I mean, Lesalia's very progressive in everything. Aren't they the first province to allow coed troops?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but being on the battlefield for most of my life wasn't exactly conducive to finding a nice girl to bring home to meet my sister," Beowulf retorts, sounding a touch put out. I keep my eyes on Chiroseau; he seems fairly amused.

"It was for me," he says, and Beowulf grunts at this.

"Shouldn't you be writing a letter to your daughter or something?"

Chiroseau nods. "I was waiting until the next mail delivery, but I'll leave you to your work." He nods to me and walks out of the office. I turn to Beowulf, who gives me an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but I really need to finish up before patrol tonight. I...I'll see you soon, hopefully."

"Alright," I say, feeling a tinge of...disappointment? I turn and leave, walking through the hallway and nearly bumping into Chiroseau on the way out. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I bow in apology. I'm not always so unobservant...

He smiles comfortingly at me. "Don't mind this old man. I'm just surprised that you would be leaving so soon."

"Beowulf needs to work," he's already spent too much time on me...

"Hm..." His eyes crinkle as he smiles fondly at me. "You're like my daughter. The same height, the same consideration for others..."

It's not really consideration so much as guilt. "Where does your daughter live?"

"Bervenia, with her younger brother and their nanny."

Nanny? "Where is their mother?"

"She's..." Chiroseau turns away, but not before I see his dark eyes narrow. "She's gone..."

My hands fly up to my mouth. What kind of person am I, just asking questions so bluntly and not expecting an answer like that? "I'm sorry," I whisper as something clenches my stomach.

Mama...

He turns back to me, then reaches out and gently pats the top of my head. "She's not dead, child. At least, not that I know of."

"She's gone, but not dead?" That doesn't make any sense...

"When you meet and quickly marry without completely knowing your partner, then leave for the war, well..." I look up at him and he gives me a small, sad smile. "Let that be a lesson to you, Miss Reis. Don't assume that all you need is love. Love is not the basis for a stable marriage."

Love...huh. "I see. I should go now, Verden's probably wondering what's taking me so long."

Chiroseau moves away, a thick coat of sadness still cloaking him. "...Buremonda? Hn. Well, thank you for listening to this old man, and just think about what I said."

I nod. "I don't love anyone anyway," and I walk out of the barracks and close the door, leaning on it afterward.

Love isn't my concern. My only concern is myself.

In this day and age, the only person I can depend on is myself.

After all, everyone else can just fade away...

"Kadmus, what are these books doing here?"

I perk up. The voice is faint because of the thick door, but if I press my ear against the door...

"Reis brought those over."

"But...we don't need these books. There's only two Temple Knights here, you and me. No one's training to be one, either. What is he trying to say with this?"

"I...don't know. If he wants to play this game, let him. I just don't like how he used Reis for this."

"Hn. Well, as long as he's just being condescending, then I don't care so much. Why didn't you send them back with Miss Reis?"

"I'll take them over. Reis is...I won't use Reis in this petty little thing with Buremonda."

"I see. That's probably the best way."

I move away from the door and start drifting back to the church. I don't feel well.

And here I thought that Verden was so thoughtful, so kind, so...

If it's true that Verden was using me for whatever reason, then...no. I don't know. Can that really be true? I don't want to believe it when he's been so kind to me.

All this shows is that people can't be trusted. They're not dependable at all. I was just thinking that! They can't be depended on if what they're going to do is smile at you while holding a dagger behind their back. And you can't tell who is doing that...and who is sincerely smiling at you.

What is going on between Verden and Beowulf...?

-End to Five-

I really hope that no one's expecting some blatantly obvious romance and heavy drama yet. I like this pace that I'm maintaining, but is it going too slow for you?

According to the game, Pisces has 'Good' compatibility with Libra. Oddly enough, this doesn't work the other way around. This is according to the game when you press 'select' next to the astrological sign. And yes, those really are Reis and Beowulf's real birthdays in the game.

Reviewer!

Mavina, that really sucks. Have you contacted Xing, the creator of about it yet? I'd like to read something of yours, actually. I really appreciated your comment about how the characters seem real, because that's really my main concern. And about different characterization...well, it's the game's fault for not giving them personalities to begin with. ; By the way, I more or less update on a weekly basis, so you don't have to keep saying 'please update'. ;

Thank you for reading! I'll be happy if you review, but if you're still interested in the story despite its slow progression, that's a big enough compliment anyway.

Chapter 6: Our Place (_Facing Homeward_): 'As we sit, his hand on top of mine, his thumb lazily stroking the juncture between my thumb and index finger, I feel strangely relaxed. Almost peaceful.

What a wonderful feeling...'


	6. 6: Our Place

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Six: Our Place (_Facing Homeward_)

-0-

For a week now, I haven't talked to anyone unless absolutely necessary. The only thing that matters is work. I'm hoping that after this book is translated, Buremonda will transfer me back to Murond.

At least, that was what I had resolved a week ago. But now...

For the most part, it's as if everything's been duller, more depressing since I've gone back to my old ways. It has even been raining for the last few days, although today's sky is just speckled with clouds. 'April showers bring May flowers' was what Mama used to say...

I can't wait to go back to Murond, just so I can forget again.

_--_tmptmptmp--

I hear quiet footsteps coming towards the middle of the library, and I try to concentrate on Ajora's prophecies regarding an angel being the leader...whatever that means. The footsteps stop just behind my chair, but I don't react.

What does Buremonda want with me now?

The footsteps continue again, and out of the corner of my eye I see the brilliant white of Buremonda's robe as it moves towards the seat across from my own. "Reis," Buremonda's gentle voice breaks through the last threads of my threadbare concentration, and I can't help but inwardly sigh as I raise my head from the book laid flat on the table. His eyes seem so sad... "Reis...have I done something to offend you in any way? You've seemed so withdrawn lately..."

"I..." my voice falters. What exactly do I say? 'I overheard Beowulf and Chiroseau talking about how you used me for some reason that I don't exactly know about, and because of hearsay that I wasn't even supposed to be present for, I am insulted because if they say that you've used me then it must be true!'

...Hn. When did I trust Beowulf's words beyond Bu...Verden's honor?

Well, it's not like he had a reason to lie. They thought that I had already left. They wouldn't have thought that I would be behind the door, listening in.

Eavesdropping, really.

And I...

_--Reis, could you do me a favor?_--

It's not like I didn't know that I was being used. That's what doing a favor more or less means, right? I willfully let myself be used, was even happy about it.

...Oh, God. This isn't worth the energy it takes to get righteously angry.

_--I just don't like how he used Reis for this_--

'This'? What was 'this'?

It...doesn't matter. It doesn't have anything to do with me. Why do I care? Whatever it is, it has to do with Verden and Beowulf. I'm not involved, and now I know to stay far away from whatever it is.

I have enough on my mind already.

"Reis...?" Verden looks at me, concern creasing his delicate face. "What...what is it?"

Waveringly, I smile at him. God, I feel like an idiot. "I'm really sorry, Verden. I...was suffering under a misconception. But everything's better now, really."

'Suffering under a misconception'. Wow. If by some weird chance I have to go out on the battlefield, I'm definitely going to be a mediator.

He looks at me like he doesn't really believe me. I can't say I blame him. I have been very cold towards him for the last week or so. "If you say so," his expression brightens as his normally serene smile becomes more...cheerful. "It is a relief that my prayers have been granted and you have returned to your kind self."

He prayed for me to be myself again...?

Isn't that a bit too much?

"You didn't have to go through such trouble..." I murmur.

"Nonsense." he waves his hand in negation. "You're very important to me, since you're...you're the cataloguer that I had to go to great lengths to transfer from Murond."

... 'Great lengths'? Did someone else want me to transfer to their province? "I see. Thank you for your attention."

Verden smiles at me in his normal way. "Believe me, Reis, you don't have to thank me."

I smile, but I can't shake this feeling that something's a bit off...

-0-

I wander aimlessly about the halls, feeling more than a little subdued. I'm not in the mood to go 'outside'--laughable term that is when the walls have holes in them--and I've never really explored this place since I've arrived. It's been almost three weeks or so, and I've never really looked around more than I should. I guess that's a holdover trait from Murond, to just not do more than what is required.

I thought that I would hate coming back. I thought that all those old memories I had managed to bury would unearth themselves and haunt me...but except for some hazy dreams and that embarrassing moment in the shopping center a couple weeks ago, everything's fine.

I'm fine, more or less.

I'm heading towards my room from the direction of the library and, as I look over to my right, I can see that it is almost twilight. There are sparse clouds in the darkening sky and few stars out now, but they'll show up soon.

I don't really want to go to my room.

I want to watch the stars.

Slowly I walk past my room, past other rooms with people I've not met yet, then the end of the hall. I turn left, the only new path offered. This is the back of the church, judging by how there's no doors to be found. How odd...the church faces south only. I guess there's nothing in the north entrance of the town, nothing except for...

I stop. All I can do is stare out of the holes in the walls, stare beyond them, beyond...

I want to get closer.

Step by step, there's a small eternity in each interval until the tips of my boots tap against the wall. I lean over, placing my hands on the sill of the window directly in front of me. I can feel the coldness of the smooth stone, a reassurance that this is real. Over the tops of the houses I can see it, just a raised piece of land off to the right, just a short distance away. Just northeast of Lionel castle town, just an unassuming land mass.

Bariaus Hill.

Home.

"It's been such a long time..." I mutter, then I shake my head. Isn't that what I wanted? For it to be a long time before I ever saw the place again? That's why I tried--though not very hard--not to come here.

But staring at my first home, just a dark clump of land against a backdrop of bruise-blue...I don't...it doesn't hurt like I thought it would.

Have I grown so cold in the last eight years?

I don't...want to think about that.

The sill reaches up to my hips. That's not too tall. I raise my left leg over the sill, then my right, sitting down and straightening my sky blue dress out afterwards. I let my hands rest on either side of me, thumbs pointing upward. My legs dangle over the edge, which makes me feel as if I were just a little girl again.

I close my eyes and remember...

_I'm just a little girl sitting on the roof of our house while Mama is inside, cooking supper. It's the base for Behemoth soup, Mama's worst meal, but we'll eat it anyway because we've gone through the past winter on stripped Selseta plants and dried red Chocobo, and everyone knows how stringy the red one's meat is. To the left of my dangling feet is Papa, who's whistling a tune about animals running free in the wild while skinning a King Behemoth. Mama knows the words. She knows everything. My little brothers are running around, pleading for me to teach them how to climb the roof so they can fly, but I've already promised Mama and Papa that I wouldn't tell. They didn't need to make me promise, I wouldn't have said anything anyway._

_After all, I'm the oldest. I have to be the most responsible._

_Mama comes out and tells the twins to go pick some fresh berries if they want to have dessert tonight, so they automatically run around right underneath my dangling feet, chanting my name, begging me to come down and join them._

_I sigh...  
_  
I open my eyes. Nothing's changed.

They're all still gone.

Why...?

Why was I the only one left...?

Why do I belong to the Church now?

Why can't I remember...?

I lower my head. Isn't that what I wanted? To not remember? To just live my life without knowing why everything changed, why I'm not still Reis Dular of Bariaus Hill, why I'm now Reis Dular, cataloguer for a religion I hadn't even heard of before my thirteenth birthday?

If I remember now, will that change anything?

I close my eyes again.

Probably not...

_--_tmptmptmp--

Footsteps. A man's. Heavier than Verden's, who is my height and probably weighs just a bit more than me. These footsteps are of an individual who is heading my way and not just passing through. I don't open my eyes, don't bother to turn around. If it's not who I think it is, then I'll just have said another stupid thing. The embarrassment burns my cheeks and stomach for just a little while, then goes away. There are worse feelings. "Good evening, Beowulf," I call out, and the footsteps stop.

"How...how did you know?" He sounds flustered. I don't turn around.

I'm sure I have a hideous expression on my face right now.

"I heard your footsteps and guessed."

"I see..." A pause. "Did you want to be alone?"

Do I want to be alone? I just...it's such a deceptively simple question.

_Do I want to be without Beowulf's presence?_

I shake my head. His footsteps start up again, louder and louder until they reach the wall, then they stop. With my peripheral vision I watch him easily step up onto the sill, then sit down. If I extended my right arm, I would touch him. He blends in with the night and he smells faintly of the shopping area, so he must've just gotten off of patrolling.

Being so close to home seems to make me so much more perceptive than usual. I don't think I like that.

"It's a nice night. There's not so many clouds as there have been the last few days, what with the rain and all." Pause. "Whenever it rains, it reminds me of Lesalia. It's a good thing it doesn't rain a lot down here, or I'd always be homesick." Chuckle. "Reis, you're from around here, right?"

How the...how would he know that? "Excuse me?"

"Buremonda told me when he was planning on transferring you here. He said something about how you'd probably appreciate coming back to your homeland." I can feel his eyes on me, but I don't turn to meet his gaze. "Can I ask you where you're from?"

It feels natural to raise my arm and point at that unimposing hunk of dark in the distance. "There. Bariaus Hill."

"That's a pretty dangerous place. A lot of dragons and other monsters live there." He sounds a bit shocked. "Is that why you're a ward of the Church?"

What's with all these questions now? It was bad enough that I have so many questions that I can't answer...well, at least the ones that Beowulf's tossing out at me are easy enough to answer. "I'm a ward of the Church because I am an orphan. How do you know that I'm a ward..." I shake my head. Never mind, stupid question. "Verden again, right?"

"...Verden?" The name is little more than faint murmurs along a breeze, but it's whispered in a tone that suggests...something I can't quite understand. It's not happy, though. Maybe he can't place the name?

"Buremonda," I clarify, even though he probably wasn't asking me.

"You heard that...I probably shouldn't be surprised, I guess. You have remarkable hearing."

Try telling me that when I'm accidentally caught outside when the hourly bells ring. "I suppose."

Once again peace and quiet reigns...not like I mind Beowulf talking. It's just those questions that were...not what I needed right now. All I need is peace and quiet with someone I really like, someone I really like being around.

Even if I'm not facing him, haven't even looked in his direction since I heard his footsteps, I can still feel his calming presence washing over me.

Content.

Cared for.

Bariaus Hill may be before me, but Beowulf's right next to me.

I smile.

"Reis, did you like being with your family when you were all together?" His voice is a touch heavier than usual, making me pause.

Don't all people like being with their families?

"Yes, very much so," I answer, fighting not to ask the most obvious question, "even when my younger brothers were doing stupid things and annoying me to death...I still loved them very much."

Even when I yelled and ranted and raved...did you know how much I loved you Tyrei, Quain?

How much I still love you...

Something warm touches the inside of my right hand, and I start. What's that? I steal a glance at my hand...our hands. His wrist is on top of mine, his thumb resting on my thumb's lowest joint and the rest of his hand nearly engulfing mine. I look up at his face, but he's staring off into the distance. "I think that..." he begins quietly, eyes still aimed at the sky, "you and I aren't as different as I first thought...no, not at all," he whispers the last words. Why, if he knows I can hear him anyway?

And, what did he mean? Was he an orphan as well?

_--It reminds me of Sis too much_--

...At least he had his sister with him.

Why didn't I have that as well? Or is it some sick 'you can only have one' choice by an indifferent god?

Maybe that's why Beowulf talked about fate that first time. The idea that our creator is playing with us like that...it's a lot better to think that 'it was just supposed to happen' instead of the alternative.

'God doesn't care about us.'

I shudder.

But...no. I think he means something else when he said that we weren't as different as he first thought. Something about him...

Look at me second-guess this man that I met just less than a month ago. When did I start thinking that I understood him?

_--You and I aren't as different as I first thought_--

When did he start thinking that he understood me?

I look away from him, instead fixing my gaze to the stars above.

As we sit, his hand on top of mine, his thumb lazily stroking the juncture between my thumb and index finger, I feel strangely relaxed. Almost peaceful.

What a wonderful feeling...

"So, what were you doing here, anyway?" His voice is once again lighthearted, his normal tone.

"I thought I'd watch the stars. And you?"

"I returned those books you had brought over, and then I thought I'd wander around for a bit." I feel a slight movement through his hand, like he just shrugged or something. "I'm glad I saw you."

Me, too. "Why is that?"

"Well, I..." His thumb stops its soothing movements. "I like being around you."

Me, too, though I'm surprised that the feeling is reciprocated. "I like being around you too."

His grip tightens. "And I want to see you more often."

Why is he being so serious about this? I mean, we're friends so this is normal, right? I look over at him, meeting his unusually intense gaze. "Alright."

He looks taken aback. "...Alright, then."

I have this annoying little feeling that I'm missing something here. Looking into Beowulf's slightly quizzical, slightly pleased expression, I'm guessing I'm missing the entire point. Living with only my family for the first thirteen years of my life, then spending the next eight years in emotional stasis and purposely away from human interaction...it's not my fault. I have this feeling that he's assuming that I understand what he's talking about.

Hn.

Beowulf clears his throat. "So...would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

Lunch tomorrow? But I don't get a very long lunch break unless I ask Verden, and if he and Beowulf have some sort of bad thing going on...well, I refuse to get involved in that again. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Oh," Beowulf says calmly, then goes back to looking at the stars.

What did I do _now_? I mean, I can't, but I still want to see him again anyway...and that was cold! Did I say something wrong? Is saying that I can't do something at the time specified a bad thing? Okay then, I'll fix it. "But I should be able to leave work early tomorrow, so could we have dinner instead?"

He looks over at me, blatant surprise on his face. I wonder why? Is it his turn to say that he can't go or something? My stomach's fluttery--not the good 'I just finished a section of that stupid tome!' sort of way either--just thinking about it.

I hope he doesn't say no...

Is this why he acted the way he did when I said that I couldn't go?

...I guess my understanding of him is getting a bit better.

"That's even better, Reis." He smiles, and all the fluttery feelings melt into a comfortable kind of warmth. "How about...seven in front of...wait, Buremonda won't like that..."

"Seven in front of the barracks?" I smile, trying to cover up my confusion. Why is he so flustered?

"That's fine. Seven in front of the barracks. Right. Well, I better get going...I have some things to do. Good night, Reis." Before I even have a chance to say anything, Beowulf is loosening his grip on my hand and picking himself off of the wall and disappearing around the corner.

I stare after him, feeling bewildered. That was a little...fast.

Hmm.

This isn't...a normal sort of dinner between friends, is it?

I look over at Bariaus Hill, still cloaked in the night sky. I guess I should get going too.

Is it fair that I can leave like this?

"Good night, Mama, Papa, Tyrei and Quain," I whisper. Can they hear me?

...I can't even remember their chorus of voices saying 'good night'. We always took for granted that we'd see each other the next morning...

Above the hill, I can see the shape of a hydra flying about and I think of red.

Beowulf's eyes' red.

Red dragon's red.

Memories' red.

Someday, I'll have to visit...

-End to Six-

Ah, it's great having several plotlines going at once, both internally and externally. I don't like convoluted plotlines, so I hope that everything is still going smoothly here for everyone.

Some of you may have noticed that I've changed my summary...and good riddance. I didn't even know what the second sentence had meant. This new one may be bland, but now I can write out the chapter title when I update! I've also upped the rating, though that's just added insurance for later chapters.

This weekend I'm going down to San Diego, so the next chapter will be late.

Reviewers!

Mavina, were you watching Blue Gender on Adult Swim too? I like it well enough--I like it more than the new eps of Inuyasha, actually--but the fics on are kinda...sparse. Oh, and thanks for the comments, I really like how you always point out something specific. V

Suteki Maiden, thank you very much! I hope that you'll continue liking this series as it goes on, it's always great to see new people reading!

Thank you for reading! I thrive on feedback and just knowing that people are reading this story!

Chapter 7: Intentions (_a case for unprotected dating_): "...'Date'? What is...a 'date'?"


	7. 7: Intentions

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Seven: Intentions (_A case for unprotected dating_)

-0-

I don't really understand how it came about, but the Glabados Church has an agreement of sorts with the Eastern Lands. For easy immigration to Ivalice--or the church-owned parts of it, at least--the people of the Eastern Lands have given the Church mystical warriors such as 'samurai', 'ninja', and 'oracles', the latter of whose skillset the Temple Knights have adopted as their own.

Another gift, lesser known but no less important, were the blueprints for structures called 'bathhouses'.

I don't really care about warriors and fighting and such, but I do like feeling clean.

The bathhouse is actually on church grounds, to the northeast of the church itself. The walkway over to it is just before the main hallway turns left to the back of the church. The structure is split into two sections for men and women.

Inside the female section I sit on a small wooden stool. All my clothes and toiletries are on the bench that runs along the inner edge of the building. Nobody else is here.

Good.

I pick up a bar of soap and methodically begin soaping myself up, all the while wondering about tonight. Tonight I have dinner with Beowulf.

I don't know why, but something's still nagging at me about tonight. Something's off. Maybe I should've asked him why he asked me to meet him, but I feel like I should already know. Somehow, I don't think the answer is just because we're friends.

My upbringing didn't really allow me to learn a lot about the interaction between humans. Well, I guess I'd understand it from a family sort of view, but...

_--That's fine. Seven in front of the barracks. Right. Well, I better get going...I have some things to do. Good night, Reis_--

The way he was talking was more stilted than usual. Family members aren't that nervous with each other...

...Beowulf was nervous?

I reach for my bottle of hair soap where all my stuff is on the bench, squeezing out a bit of it and rubbing it into my hair. Now, why would Beowulf be nervous? I mean, he's shown that he has the amazing ability to say whatever he wants to with total disregard to how I might feel about it.

_--But...I think that you look beautiful, even with a glare on your face...you're really one of a kind_--

I lower my arms slowly. Maybe Beowulf is just weird, or maybe I'm just overanalyzing him.

...This is annoying!

I look around for a bucket. Ah, how convenient, there's one behind my little stool. I stand and walk over to the spigot just above the bench and to the left of my things, feeling the cold tiles beneath my feet. Well, it's about to get a lot colder. I turn the handle, letting my bucket fill with water, then I turn it off and dump the cold water on my head.

Cold!

As the soapy water flows down my legs and to the drain situated in the center of the room, I can still hear the crackling of the soap in my hair, still see the fluffy white suds drifting downward on my body.

I smile ruefully as I fill up the bucket again.

-0-

Minutes later, covered in goosebumps but no longer in soap, I make my way to the large body of water in the back of the room. Faint wisps of steam gently rise and dissipate on the water's surface. I don't know how the water stays heated, no matter the time. I guess there's a sort of automated heating system underneath the bath, like some sort of device regularly scoops up coal and throws it into a furnace or something. Goug Machine City is in Lionel, after all.

I crouch carefully before the edge of the bath. It looks like it has been recently heated. Okay, Reis, just remember that this is a luxury.

None too gently, I jump into the bath.

Despite my better judgment, I don't jump out of the bath. I feel like I'm simmering, like I'm blushing all over my body. It's really hot at first, but the feeling is easy to get used to. Besides, the water level goes only up to the bottom of my ribcage, so it's not like all of me is cooking.

...Ah...

I can't stay long tonight or else I'll get wrinkly all over--I don't want Beowulf to see my wrinkly hands or something--but for now this is nice.

"Oh, did you hear about Peppermint?"

I start. Who said that?

I hear feet smacking against the tiles, and I sink into the bath slightly. I don't want to be seen. I was hoping I could have some time to relax...

"Oh, no, what did she..." The voice falters. "Who is that?" This is asked in a harsh, carrying whisper, and I narrow my eyes. It's a good thing I'm facing away from the entrance.

"Isn't that the cataloguer from Murond?" A different, higher-pitched voice squeaks.

"Oh, right, the one on loan." The first one says, and I sink lower. On loan? That makes me sound like a chocobo...

"Yeah, Priest Buremonda's pet." Another, more alto voice giggles.

...Pet?

They busy themselves with soaping up and knocking buckets around and shrieking at the cold water. I don't move an inch. I feel cold.

Pet? I don't know what that means, but that sounds pretty...I don't know. All these strange words and slang terms...modern Ivalician seems more complicated than its past incarnations. I better ask someone what that means...but probably not Beowulf. It doesn't sound like something I'd want him to hear.

But I want to know. It has to do with me, after all.

The three women enter the bath, and I can feel their eyes on me. It's kind of strange to stare at other people in the bath, you know. "Excuse me?" the squeaky-voiced one asks in a hesitant tone, and I sigh and turn around.

The three women are shorter than me and with more filled out figures. Two are brunettes, one a blonde, their hair piled high on their heads and secured with hair ties and towels. I think they're white mages, just because most women at Murond are. "Hi," the brunette on the right squeaks, "we haven't seen you around before."

That's because I take baths late at night to avoid people. I nod.

"You're the cataloguer from Murond, right? What's your name?" asks the blonde in the middle. I feel vaguely defensive now. Why all the questions?

"Yes, that's me. My name is Reis Dular." I bow my head slightly. They stare at me with befuddled expressions.

I feel so out of place...

"It's a pleasure," the brunette on the left coos in a tone so fake that my ears feel like closing in upon themselves. She turns to her friends. "So, what about Peppermint?"

"Oh, you won't believe it! She's actually still going steady with one of the knights!" The brunette on the right exclaims, hurting my ears in the process. The blonde splashes around, eyes wide.

"By Saint Ajora, you can't be serious! What do you think Priest Buremonda and Sir Kadmus are going to do when they find out?"

I turn around at this point, because it's blatantly obvious no one's talking to me. The movement stirs the water, making me feel warm again. Ah...

"Well, Priest Buremonda's going to severely reprimand her, of course. He might even kick her out!"

"That's what she deserves, you know. It's totally against the rules for us to have a relationship with a knight."

"Are you going to tell Priest Buremonda about her, Scarlet?"

"Why should I? After all, no one can hide a relationship for very long in a church."

What an odd conversation. It's also a loud one, so I step out of the bath and walk over to the bench, pulling on my robe and slipping my feet into my slippers. I gather up my things and make my way to the entrance.

"Good, she's leaving. Wasn't she creepy? All quiet and polite...oh, she's weird!"

"You say that just because you're jealous of her looks."

"No way! She's so thin, and did you see that scar on her stomach?"

They may be whispering, but I can hear them very plainly. As I trod along the walkway back to my room, I place my right hand against the bottom of my rib cage, feeling the softness of my robe. There's a long, horizontal scar there, angry red even after being laid upon my skin for eight years.

I'm sure that such a vivid feature like that has an amazing story behind it.

I wish I could remember it.

-0-

_--_dingdingDONGding--

Back in my room, I count the number of loud bells while drying my hair with a towel. When I'm inside the bells don't seem to bother me as much, but they're still pretty loud. I drop my towel and reach for the brush I had left on the bed before leaving for the bath.

Hm, it's six. Plenty of time.

After a few strokes of the brush, I throw it onto my bed and head over to my valise, next to the bed. I kind of wish I had a closet, or at least something to put all my clothes in.

Beowulf's cape from his Shrine Knight armor rests on top of my valise. Should I return it to him tonight...?

Well...no. I'll wait until he asks me for it back. I'm...I'm kind of used to seeing it here, a nicely-folded lump of purple in my otherwise drab room. I move it aside and open up my case, and various colors spring out at me in my dark room. I think I'll wear one of my specially made outfits, since Beowulf really seemed to like my last one. Now, which one...?

Oh...this one for sure...

I pull out a dark--actually indigo--bundle, and an undergarment, which I promptly put on. I unfold the bundle, revealing an indigo samurai outfit and a lilac top. The top is designed like the original striped top that female samurai wear, but with shorter sleeves and...well, I didn't care for the yellow and blue stripes of the original. I take off my robe and slip on the top, then I step into the outfit...the pants part of it is so roomy. Locating the ties on the sides of the outfit, I pull and pull until it's snug enough, then tie off the sides. After a bit of adjustment, everything feels perfect.

I feel really good about this. I'm not used to that, but it is a nice feeling.

I crouch down and reach underneath my bed until I pull out my black traveling boots, putting them on with practiced ease. Now, should I leave my hair down...well, this is a samurai outfit, so where's my hair tie...?

After tying up my hair into a high tail, I find some money in my valise and put it in my pocket. Beowulf and I had split on our lunch last time, and I expect to do the same this time. Let's see...usually the nights are pretty warm once spring comes around, and May starts tomorrow so I shouldn't need a mantle or cloak. I've got my money, I'm wearing a nice outfit, and I'm feeling good.

Okay, I'm ready.

-0-

I've never walked outside of the church at night, and it seems I haven't missed anything in not doing so. It's very quiet, with the occasional chirping of cicadas making this a comfortable night. I look up at the bell tower on top of the church; the clock situated on it reads six-fifty.

Good. I'd hate to be late.

I stroll over to the barracks, taking in this beautiful night. Tiny stars sparkle in the distance. A waning half moon hangs low in the sky. And to think, I get to spend this time with Beowulf...

Reaching the barracks, I knock on the door. There are various voices inside, none that I recognize instantly. I guess the knights are actually inside for once. There's a dull glow coming from the sides of the building. Lanterns, I think. I should get one if I want to do some sewing at night...

The door swings open, surprising me. I should've paid attention to any footsteps coming to the door. A young man with light brown hair, a disheveled uniform and a bewildered look stares at me. "Um...hello. You must be Miss Reis. Um..."

Why is he staring at me like that? It's like he's in shock or something. "Yes, that's me."

He starts. "Oh! Um..." He looks hastily behind him. "Sir Chiroseau, Miss Reis is here!" he looks back at me, a faint redness around his cheeks evident with the glow from inside the barracks. "Er...it's a pleasure to meet you, but I have to...to patrol! Good night!" With that, he starts jogging off, presumably to the shopping area.

Well. That was weird.

I don't inspire the greatest reactions in people, do I?

"Good evening, Miss Reis," a more gruff voice says, and I look up into Chiroseau's face.

"Good evening, Sir Chiroseau," I nod. He walks out of the barracks and closes the door. Why did he do that?

"Sorry, but Kadmus will be out shortly." Chiroseau smiles at me. "He's been running around all day. He almost looks like he's in a bit of a panic, actually."

Did something happen? "Oh, I hope nothing happened in town."

"...No, nothing like that." He looks at me with an expression that's...partly puzzled? "Anyway, are you looking forward to your date?"

...What? "... 'Date'? What is...a 'date'?"

Now Chiroseau looks fully puzzled. "You don't know what a date is...?"

I shake my head.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Well, it's like this...hmm...let's just say that Kadmus has...intentions towards you."

Intentions? That sounds...intimidating. I take a step back. "That sounds foreboding. What sort of intentions does he have towards me?"

Chiroseau begins to laugh. "You don't have to worry, Miss Reis! Kadmus has the purest intentions towards you...or as pure as a man can have towards a young, pretty woman such as yourself."

Now I'm confused. "So...they're good intentions. Like...he wants to be closer friends with me?"

"Well..." He chuckles. "Something like that."

"Oh." I wish he had said that in the first place. "Well, that's good. I hope he's not too tired from all his running around to have dinner with me."

Smiling slightly, Chiroseau shakes his head. "Let's see. He had to switch his patrol schedule so he could have the night free...I believe he changed it with Abraham, the young man who...greeted you." He says the last words with amusement. "And he's just been in and out of the barracks since his shift ended at six."

Oh...it seems that I've inconvenienced Beowulf by asking if we could have dinner. I seem to do that a lot... "I see."

"But please, Miss Reis, don't feel badly about it. Kadmus is a grown man...even if he doesn't act like it sometimes." Chiroseau pats me on the head, and I smile bashfully. "He understands that for every action there's a consequence..." he leans in and says confidentially, "and he'll choose what, or who, is worth it. So, don't worry about it, alright?"

_--Reis, you're my precious daughter. Please, trust your papa's words. You can't help everyone all the time. Everyone has to deal with the consequences of their actions, even if they're your brothers, and they need to realize that too_--

Papa...

"Are you okay?" Chiroseau looks worried. I nod.

"Your words reminded me of something my...something someone very dear to me said once." I smile, albeit waveringly. "Thank you, Sir Chiroseau."

He moves away from me, a look of fatherly caring on his face. "It's no problem," he says finally, and we stand in comfortable silence.

Actions and consequences...that's a natural law. That's something I can understand, not like intentions and dates. The latter worries me, but if Chiroseau says that it's a good thing, then...I guess it can't be all that bad.

I can hear footsteps approaching the door and I turn expectantly just as the door opens, revealing a darkly-clad Beowulf. I'm so used to seeing him in his more official uniforms, but even in his casual wine-red shirt with black designs on the bottom of the sleeves and shirt, black pants and black knee-high boots, he still has this presence of...of...

Oh, I don't know. All I know is that I really like it. And I really like how he looks...well, I always like how he looks. It's hard not to when he always look good...

...What am I thinking? Focus, Reis!

"See something you like?" I look up at Chiroseau, who's facing Beowulf. Oh good, I thought he was talking to me.

Beowulf looks over at the older knight as well, smiling slightly as he does so. "Don't you have a patrol to lead? It's seven, after all."

"Hm...well, have fun Kadmus, Miss Reis," Chiroseau nods at me, then walks past Beowulf into the barracks. Beowulf moves out of the threshold of the building, closing the door as he does so, all the while smiling at me.

"I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?" he asks as he walks over, standing on my right.

I shake my head. "No, not at all. I heard you had been running around all day. Do you still want to have dinner with me?"

Please say yes...

"Of course I do." He sounds surprised. "Everything I did today was for our dinner."

Giving him a sidelong glance, I look down. "Our...date?"

"E-exactly."

God, ever since I arrived, it seems like I'm always inconveniencing him. I'm really a bother, aren't I? I bow slightly to him, feeling contrite. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

Beowulf shakes his head. "I didn't...I don't mind. Come on, I have a reservation at a restaurant for seven-thirty."

"Oh, okay," I start walking forward when I feel his hand lightly grasp mine from behind.

I...I don't want him to be the only one holding on...

Slowly, I twist my hand so that our fingers are entwined; palm-to-palm, as it were. His hand is warm and calloused, his grip gentle and considerate of my smaller hand.

With a touch like this, his intentions must be wonderful.

-0-

The restaurant that we go to is different from the one we went to last time. Unlike that one, this one has no outside tables, just a sign next to the door that boasts 'cooking from all over mainland Ivalice!' I can see why they'd say that, because Murond certainly isn't a culinary giant.

As we reach the narrow entrance, Beowulf lets go of my hand, only to place his hand between my shoulder blades. I stiffen. His palm, the joints of his fingers...it's comforting to have his touch but...does he think that he can touch me anywhere? He keeps it there as we walk through the restaurant's open door with me in front, then removes it.

Well...it wasn't so bad...

We enter into a partially darkened room, candles ablaze in several strategic places to offer at least some light, but not enough to have to fix up the room. There's a table to the left of us, and a curtain--royal purple, I believe--covering the right wall.

A dark-haired woman, poured into a clingy crimson dress that I'm sure violates at least one decency law in Lionel, approaches us. "Hello, what can I do for you tonight?" she purrs at me in a low alto voice. In the candlelight, I can see her dark green eyes crawl over me from head to toe, then the curve of her painted lips as she smirks.

I lower my eyes. I've never been stared at like that by a woman before...

"Hello, we have a reservation. Two for Kadmus?" Beowulf says from behind me. The lady flickers her gaze from me to him, a bland look appearing on her face. I dare say she looks unimpressed. She walks away to the table, hips swaying, then returns with two menus. She motions to us, and we silently follow her through the curtain, and...

Wow...

The room we've entered is large, lots of tables covered in cream tablecloths, each one lit up with a candle in the middle. There are lots of people here, their bright chatter and laughter creating a steady hum in my ears that's not unpleasant. All these people look like they're in a higher class...nobles, I guess.

Hm. I didn't know that nobles even lived in this town.

The lady in red deftly moves through the people and their tables. I follow as briskly as I can, the legs of my outfit swishing along rhythmically until we reach an empty table at an empty corner of the room. I sit and Beowulf follows, sitting across from me. The lady hands us our menus and saunters off. I look over at Beowulf, who's already picked up his menu. He catches my glance and smiles. "Big place, isn't it?"

I nod. I'm not used to being in a place where so many other people are, unless church counts, and I skipped enough sermons in Murond to not get used to truly large crowds. "There are lots of nobles here," I observe. If this place is frequented by only nobles, the meals must be expensive. I glance at the first page of the menu and my suspicions are confirmed. I wonder if I brought enough money to cover my own meal...by the looks of it, a year's pay couldn't pay for a full meal...

Looking over at Beowulf, I notice that he's preoccupied with the menu. Oh, right, food. I look at the dishes offered in greater detail...I didn't know there were that many ways to prepare a chocobo...wow, they offer black chocobo. That used to be a delicacy at my home when I was a child. Too many people were capturing them to be used on the war front just because they can fly.

I flip through the pages. This menu's like a book...a dense one, at that. Hm...Morbol tentacles? Where is that served as food...Lionel? I've never even seen a Morbol before! Flotiball eyes are a Limberry delicacy? Hm...most of the truly weird things on here are Limberry dishes, it seems...I mean, Pisco Demon tentacles? 'To increase strength, men in the Limberry region consume this dish, braised in Bomb oil. This is truly considered a delicacy all throughout Ivalice.' What's this description for...Minitaurus testicles. Hm. I don't even know what that is, and I know I don't want to eat it. Limberry men must have iron stomachs or something.

Looking up, I see Beowulf grimace slightly, his gaze fixated on his menu. I wonder if he just read the same thing I did? Judging by all the weird things this restaurant purports to serve, maybe not. Back to the menu...oh, this looks safe: 'Chocobo breast Selseta salad tossed with our homemade dressing, with your choice of chocobo'.

I look up just as the lady comes back. "What would you like to order?" she asks us. Beowulf motions for me to order first, so I point out what I want on the menu. She raises an eyebrow at this. "And do you have a preference of chocobo?"

Delicacy... "Black, please."

She nods like I said something that pleased her, then looks over at Beowulf. "And for you, sir?"

He casts a glance at me, then points out what he wants on the menu. "Broiled, please."

I swear the lady is rolling her eyes. "Would you like to see the wine list? You can point out what you want on that, too."

"No, thank you," Beowulf says in a polite tone. "Water for the both of us, please."

"I see." She looks over at me, pausing as if she wants to say something. "I really like your outfit. Wherever did you find it?"

I fidget slightly. I feel like I'm being put out in the open, with this obviously glamorous woman asking me about, well, my creation. "...I made it."

"Oh, I didn't realize that women did that anymore for themselves," she murmurs, taking our menus. "Your meal will be brought to you shortly." She wiggles off, hips moving independently from her waist.

...I wish I had hips like that.

"You know, she does have a point." I look up at Beowulf's cheerful face. "Depending where you're from, most women don't know how to use a needle and thread anymore. That's why I'm really impressed that you can actually make outfits like tonight's." He pauses. "Female samurai?"

I'm beaming. I'm absolutely beaming in wondrous delight. "You recognize it?"

His smile grows wider. "Of course. It fits you very well. I..." He shakes his head. "You obviously know what looks amazing on you all the time."

If I looked in a mirror right this moment, I'm sure I would look positively, happily dazed. I lower my head, trying to will away my wide smile. "You really think so?"

"Reis." I raise my head, remnants of my smile still lingering, and he chuckles. "There, that's better. You shouldn't hide your smile. I want..." He looks away, a small smile on his own face. "I just want to see you smile more." His gaze returns to me, and in the candlelight his eyes are a beautiful, shimmery dark red. "I want to see you smile at me."

I don't understand Beowulf. I will willingly admit it to him, to the heavens, to anyone who will ask me right now. He's incredibly, completely and totally without reservation when it comes to his words...with his feelings.

How could I not admire him? How could I not like him as much as I do?

How did he become such an amazing man?

Even if it doesn't concern me, I still...I would like to know.

I would love to know.

Would you tell me, Beowulf?

"Here you go, miss." I look up and watch as my rather large plate of salad descends to my table. The lady in red places it in front of me, smiling slightly. "Black chocobo breast Selseta salad, tossed in homemade dressing." She looks over at Beowulf. "Your meal will be arriving soon, sir." And with that, she struts off.

"Isn't that what you ordered when we had lunch?" Beowulf asks, peering at my meal. I push the plate towards him.

"Not with the black chocobo, but Selseta plants are simply wonderful. They have a very subtle flavor. Try some."

He looks startled...is it strange for me to offer some of my own food on a date? "Oh...okay," he picks up his fork and pokes at some of the salad, bringing it back to his mouth. He chews with his mouth closed--always a good thing--then swallows. The look on his face...he doesn't look like he particularly likes my salad. "Are you sure you're not talking about the dressing?"

I pull back my plate. How can he not taste how wonderful the plants are? "It's more than that. It's the plants themselves that have a unique flavor."

Although...the plants never tasted this good when I was a child. I guess it's just one of those age things.

"If you say so," he says agreeably. Hn. I pick up my fork and start eating, and out of the corner of my eye I see our glasses of water arrive. "Reis, why did you ask for black chocobo?"

I pause in mid-chew. How do I explain this...? "Because they're slow." The look that Beowulf gives me confirms that he knows nothing about proper hunting. "You see, the faster the creature, the thinner, the less nutritious their meat is. The slower, the better the meat is."

Now he's staring at me really strangely. "I never knew that. Was your father a hunter?"

"...No." I stare at him. "Both of my parents were." With hunters, it's usually better to have a spouse who can also hunt. This is what we call 'safety in numbers'. I guess it isn't that weird that he wouldn't know that. "What about your parents?"

"Hm..." He reaches for his cup and takes a sip of water. "My dad was a magic professor at Lesalia's military academy." He looks down into his cup. "Mum was a noblewoman."

...Since when is 'noblewoman' a job? "What does a noblewoman do?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

Beowulf seems standoffish about his parents...his mother. I'll try not to broach the subject again, because...I like the Beowulf that is happy and can say whatever's on his mind.

I don't want him to be like me.

"And here's your meal, sir." The lady in red puts down a plate with what looks to be a steak on it. "Broiled Bull Demon flank. I'll come back to refill your glasses." She walks off, and I can't help but wish I had that sort of voluptuous body again.

Mama had that sort of body. What went wrong with me?

"Do you want to try some of my steak?" Beowulf pushes his plate towards me, but I shake my head. I've never liked Bull Demon. He nods to himself and starts on his meal.

This feels comfortable, even in a room full of nobles and expensive food.

I like this.

-0-

We stumble out of the restaurant into the night, our hands tightly clasped together. "I better take you back," he says, looking up into the starry night. "It's kind of cold."

I shove my right hand into my pocket. I can feel my money in there, all of it still there because Beowulf graciously offered to pay for dinner. Well, he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, actually, but he was very gracious about it. "I guess." Although I don't feel chilly at all, and I'm the one with short sleeves. I look over in the direction of the bell tower. Ah, it's...nine-thirty? That is pretty late.

We quietly walk to the church, immersed in comfortable silence, our hands swinging slightly between our bodies. I didn't think this kind of comfort existed outside of my old duties at Murond, and I can't help but go along with it.

I'm really feeling comfortable around Beowulf, and I really enjoy that. More than Verden, more than Chiroseau...I really like Beowulf the best.

I shouldn't play favorites, I know. Growing up with twin brothers...it's the stupidest thing to favor one person over another in all areas. But I...I can't describe it. These aren't the feelings of 'family love' that I enjoyed once, such a long time ago. This is unsettlingly new, unfamiliar and...strange. But I don't want to figure out exactly what it is right now. That's...that's a bit scary.

Our joined hands are enough.

"Well, here we are," Beowulf announces. I look up...oh, there's the church. "I really enjoyed tonight, Reis." Looking over at him, I notice that his eyes are without a trace of color in the night, but somehow I can still picture their exact shade in my mind.

"Me too..." I trail off, unsure of what to say next, of what I really want to say.

Can we do this again soon?

"So..." I can feel his thumb lightly run over the side of my thumb, his grip loose. "By any chance, would you like to do this again? I mean, dinner. Or lunch."

I nod eagerly. "Yes, I'd like that..." Hmm, when's my next day off... "I believe I have a day off the day after tomorrow, so if you'd like to do something..."

"Lunch, then. We could meet in front of the barracks and walk together."

"Oh, okay, that's fine..."

Slowly and oh-so-hesitantly I disentangle our fingers and smile up at him. "Good night, Beowulf."

His lips curve slightly. "Good night, Reis."

I don't...but I have to. I turn around and walk, glancing back and watching him do the same. With each step I'm farther away from him and closer to my room, and it's only a matter of time until I reach my door and enter my tiny, undecorated room. I close the door and make my way to my bed, flinging off my blanket so that I can crawl under the covers. I hear my brush hit the floor and skid on the hard floor. Half-heartedly tugging off my boots, I finally succeed and toss myself into my bed, throwing my blanket haphazardly over my body.

I close my eyes.

_Reis!_

For a short while, everything was okay just because of Beowulf...

_Big sister!_

But it's not possible to always forget, is it?

_Come play with us!_

-End to Seven-

A deliciously long chapter, because there was so much I wanted to bring up now that has bearing in future chapters. That and I figured that I was already on the late side, and this is a chapter that could use lots and lots of description. We want Reis to have some fun, right?

Reviewers!

Arreat's Hymn...that's a pretty name (what's it from?), but do you mind if I just call you Mavina? Presently, I'm writing these notes under sleep-deprivation, and it's hard to think about different names. ; Anyway, I can't stand cliched 'I've just met you, so let's fall in love and go to kissy-kissy heaven!' romances, so I generally don't read a lot of romance, fanfiction or otherwise. Rather, I like focusing on the characters themselves, what makes them tick, why would they even want to go after this person, etc. I feel like I'm just being non-original here by making my own story within the limits of what the game gave me, but I'm really happy that you like it!  
And you're right, some of the new Inuyasha episodes were pretty good, like the one about Inuyasha choosing to protect Kikyou, and Sango and her brother...but I can't stand the recaps! Even if it is a weekly show in Japan, I get awfully annoyed when I see that 'Naraku tricks Kikyou and Inuyasha' stock footage for the 15th time...

Killiko Jun, nice to meet you! Yes, this is the only Reis/Beowulf story on I have an obligation to make this the best Reis/Beowulf story! Thank you for your compliments, especially about Reis' characterization, they were very appreciated. And thanks, I'm rooting for myself as well!

toastyann, when first saw this review in my inbox, my first thought was, '4k? Who did I piss off to get that kind of review?' Then I read the first paragraph of your review, I wondered, 'Who is this person? She says I reviewed her, but I don't remember...' And then I realized who you were. You! You're the person who wrote (is writing?) the RK story with the strong Kaoru!  
I don't know how to respond to your very lengthy, very enjoyable review because I'm completely exhausted, but...thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. With the way I write, all I hope is that it's easy enough to read, yet at the same time it's very deep and not just the standard fare found in easily-read stories. I really was happy at how you noticed that Beowulf, while not the 'self' he is in the game, is his 'Libran' self; I used to love astrology, and I looked up my old books while I was deciding on the characterization of our little Temple Knight. You don't have to worry about Verden though...all he gets are mentions in Beowulf and Reis' brave story summaries, so his personality's built from scratch. I certainly hope to see your commentary on future chapters, and I must remember to find your story the first chance I get!

Chapter 8: A Leap (_Do you trust?_): "I wished for bravery so I can do this..."


	8. 8: A Leap

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Eight: A Leap (_Do you trust?_)

-0-

I've never had such a tumultuous two weeks in my life before, and it's showing no signs of stopping.

I'm liking it too much to try.

For pretty much every other day for the last two weeks, Beowulf and I have been dating--he told me the word was also a verb as well as a noun--whenever there is a gap between our schedules. A dinner when he has day patrol, or a quick lunch if he has night patrol. Sometimes I ask Verden if he can give me a longer lunch break, and with his serene smile he always grants it.

"Reis, I still have some free time before I have to get back to my paperwork. Is there something else you wanted to do?"

Today is one of those days.

"Well, I..." I look around at the marketplace where Beowulf and I are currently strolling around in, arms occasionally bumping together but otherwise not touching. There are other people around, after all. Hm...is there anything interesting...?

"Fresh fruits! Fresh fruits here!"

I like fruits. "Let's go to that fruit stall," I suggest, discreetly pointing to the large tables set up on the right side of the street. Beowulf, being an agreeable person, smiles down at me and we approach the stall. The man behind the tables laden with fruit grins at me.

"Hello there, little lady! Shopping for tonight's dinner?"

I haven't even thought that far ahead. "No, just for a snack."

The man, probably in his late thirties although he could pass for older, reaches up and strokes his thinning mustache. "Well then, today a shipment of Igros peaches arrived." He waves a short arm over a box full of the light-colored fruit. "They're very popular here."

Just because they're popular doesn't mean that I'm going to like them, but I respectfully step over to the peaches and begin inspecting them. I reach out and pick up one, softly squeezing it and turning it around. It has sparse fuzz and...what's this? It's rotting, dark markings on what was the bottom of the fruit. I drop it and pick up another one. Then another.

If all the ones on the top are rotted, I'd hate to see the ones on the bottom.

"Is there a problem, little miss?" The vendor asks, glancing at Beowulf, who happens to be in his uniform. I show the decaying fruit to the man.

"All these peaches seem to be bruised, or past ripening."

The man shrugs. What kind of attitude is that, especially to a customer? "Well, little miss, these _are_ Igros peaches."

I know that there are a lot of things that I don't understand that I should, but this doesn't seem to be one of them. "Excuse me?"

"I mean," the vendor enunciates slowly, "that they're from Igros, and it takes over a week for them to arrive here."

...He didn't have to act like _that_. "So, why don't you harvest them before they ripen, so that by the time they arrive they'll be ripe and not starting to rot?"

"Listen, lady, they're good enough for everyone else." The man's voice is harsh now, all pretense of friendliness completely gone. "Hmph, having a noble's attitude when you're dressed like a working girl..."

What does my clothing--fully appropriate for translating at the church--have to do with the fact that you are selling me bruised, rotting fruit? I drop the fruit, not quite glaring at the man but definitely leaning towards it. "I would think that people deserve to eat fresh fruit, sir," I say clearly, "and I was merely suggesting--"

The vendor cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Lady, it's all well and good to _think_ you know what I should do, but you're just a--"

"Excuse me," Beowulf says quietly. I look up and to my right at him, but he's only looking at the vendor. "I don't wish to know what you were going to say to this young woman, but Lionel does have laws against the willful selling of contaminated food. I would think that rotted fruit fits under that term perfectly."

The man staggers back, hands clenched into fists. "You-you can't do this! This is my life, you can't take it away just because of a few spoiled fruit!"

...I feel bad now, because...because it's not like I really needed the fruit, and I didn't want to get Beowulf involved...

"Hm..." Beowulf looks down for a moment, then looks directly at the now-scared vendor. "I didn't say I was going to do anything. And, while I understand that this is your source of income, you should understand that most people like eating fresh food. So, I believe that you should take her advice, because if you still continue to willfully sell rotten goods to the people I'll have no choice but to bar you from selling food in Lionel."

"So I should leave my home and have to deal with moving costs just to set up a stall in Zaland or Goug?" The look on the man's face is resignation mixed in with something very ugly, and I look away, focusing instead on Beowulf's pleasantly neutral expression.

"No," Beowulf states. "I'm sorry for the confusion, but I meant Lionel province. So please, be reasonable and listen to the young lady. Besides, your sales may rise if you sell edible food." The last statement seems almost rude, all things considering, but his tone is very matter-of-fact.

Oh Beowulf, don't put me out in the open like this...

The man glares at me with dull resentment. "So? What would you suggest, little miss?"

I'm really hating that 'little miss' thing. It makes me feel like I'm just a child that doesn't know a thing, and that's not really true. Well, mostly. "I believe that if you pick the peaches shortly before they ripen, then by the time you arrive the peaches should have ripened and will be fresh...more or less." I fight to keep my eyes level with his instead of lowering my gaze. "As for the bruising, it's probably best to package them more carefully."

He looks at me for a long moment, then his gaze flickers up to Beowulf, then back to me. "I see. Thank you, little miss."

I bow shortly, then start walking away. Beowulf comes up from behind me. "Well, interesting what one can find when they're not actually working," he says casually. I look at him, not sure what to say about that. He catches my glance and grins. "You seem to know a lot about fruit. If it were me, I wouldn't even have noticed that they were rotten!"

"...I spent a lot of time gathering apples and berries and such in my childhood," I say softly. "It's really the best way to insure that they're good."

"You really liked it, huh?"

I feel the beginnings of a small, bitter smile appearing on my face. "Yes, it was really fun."

_I'm older, old enough to take my brothers out for gathering berries without Mama, who needed to help Papa with the skinning and cutting of a regular behemoth. Tyrei and Quain are running in front of me, one chubby hand from each twin holding a medium-sized basket between them. I sigh as Quain trips, taking his brother down with him. Now Tyrei is calling his brother a klutz, and Quain's crying about the skinning of his knees, so I quicken my pace until I reach them. I'm going to prove to Mama that I'm responsible._

_I can be just like her..._

_After glaring at Tyrei and picking up Quain, the twins make up instantly and pick up the basket again, their voices mingling as they tell me to hurry up._

_I smile..._

"...Reis?"

What? "Yes?" I look over at Beowulf, who's looking at me in a somewhat amused, somewhat concerned way. Ah, he was talking, wasn't he?

"I was saying that I have a day off tomorrow. When is yours?"

My day off? It's...I smile. "Mine is tomorrow, too."

"Well..." he runs his right hand through his hair, "do you want to go over to Bariaus Valley? You can pick berries."

'I' can pick berries? "What will you be doing?"

He grins. "I'll eat them."

Oh. Of course. I shake my head in disbelief. "Why would you suggest picking berries if you're not going to do it?"

"Well...you said it was something you liked, right?" And with that, it's settled. I'll pick berries, and he'll eat them.

I can't wait.

-0-

I quickly pull on the low-cut, short brown suede dress, adjusting it slightly so that a triangle of the monk's uniform that I'm wearing, altered only in size, is revealed from the top of the dress' neckline. It's sleeveless, so nothing restricts my arms as I pull my hair into a ponytail, then section it off to start plaiting it. Another hair tie later, and all of my hair save for the seemingly omnipresent strands than hang beside my face is in a tight braid. I tighten my boots, fashioned like a male lancer's, making sure that the crossing ties over my thighs aren't too tight. The hem of my dress hangs at just mid-thigh, revealing the green of the bodysuit under it--but not too much, since my boots end a bit past my knees.

_--_dingdingDONGding--

I freeze as I listen to the number of loud bells.

Eight...nine...ten...eleven...

Eleven! I'm late!

I jump from my sitting position on the bed, nearly flinging myself at my valise. Money, money for a basket...here! Pockets, pockets...I have no pockets. Oops. I crumple the gil in my hand, then I make a dash for my door, trying not to slam it and sort of succeeding. I make my way over to the front of the church--must resist the temptation to jump out of the holes in the wall--as quickly as I can in boots I've never worn before. I would've worn my black ones, but they don't really match...ow...I'm going to hate looking at my feet tonight...

"Reis?"

I spin at this, but my new blister on the ball of my right foot makes me twist clumsily, causing me to fall over. I hold out my arms to cushion my landing...eh? Cloth? Body? Arms envelop me, steadying me, fingers against my shoulders. What? I look up into Verden's concerned face. "Are you okay, Reis?" he asks, his fingers touching the edge of the thick straps of my dress.

This is a bit close...

I move back from Verden's hold on me, feeling my weight on my feet instead of...well, on him. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so clumsy..." The concern on his face lessens somewhat. "Is there something you wanted?"

I'm still late...

"I...I just wanted to wish you a good morning, since it is your day off and everything." With a discriminating eye, he looks at me from head to toe. "You look like an adventurer. By any chance, are you leaving the town?"

Hmm... "I'm just going over to Bariaus Valley to pick berries."

A crease appears in the middle of his forehead as his eyebrows arch over his light eyes. "Should I have some of the white mages accompany you? I mean, just in case something happens..."

"No," I interrupt, then I lower my head. "Um, it's okay. I prefer being by myself."

...Except for when I'm actually by myself.

It used to be different...

"If you say so," Verden doesn't look convinced, but I don't have the time to try. "Have fun, and please be careful." His eyes linger on my face, lips slightly twitching as if he wants to say something...but then he nods his head and walks towards the library.

What was that about?

...Aren't I still late?

-0-

I crouch down, my new small basket half-filled with red and black wildberries. It's only mid-May, so most of the berry bushes are still filled with under-ripe fruit. Beowulf is at a nearby tree, collecting apples because he's taller. He volunteered and I readily agreed. I mean, I don't want him to get bored or anything.

It wouldn't be good if we were both bored.

Picking berries now is so much more different than it used to be. There are no younger brothers running underfoot, constantly getting in trouble and distracting me from the fact that this is really boring work.

Well, I'll look on the bright side of things: I get free food, and I get to spend the whole day with Beowulf. The two seem to go together, just because of Beowulf's newly found inability to let me pay for my meals...

I look at my basket. That should be enough. I'm not trying to make jam or anything.

Picking up the basket, I stand and look around. Bariaus Valley is completely within the clutches of spring, green with the grass, bushes, and trees, especially on this little almost-dale far from the main road. Such a change from decorated walls and musty bookcases.

I bet it's like this back at home...

Well, enough of that...where's Beowulf? Ah...there he is, sitting underneath the largest tree in the area, looking completely comfortable in his long-sleeved black shirt, dark blue pants and black boots. His body is facing away from me. His arms are behind his head as his back rests against the tree, his long legs stretched out in front of him. A couple of apples are resting in his lap. It seems like he's awake; he's just staring off into the distance.

Wow, he really looks relaxed. I wish I could be that relaxed when I'm awake.

I walk over to him, smiling slightly, swinging my basket around with my left hand. He looks over at me when I reach him, a softness in his expression. "Did you have fun?"

Well, not really, but I feel...lighter now. "Always, when I'm with you," I respond truthfully, and his lips stretch into a wide smile. I sit down next to him, placing my basket inbetween our bodies. "Have some berries."

He reaches into the basket with his left hand, the one closest to the basket, and brings a few berries to his lips. After chewing on them a bit, his lips pucker up. "They're sour," he announces, swallowing with a scrunched up expression. I reach for some of the berries. Hm...they are sour. Good.

"They're supposed to be sour." I reach for more. Ah...berries without any of that sugar stuff...it's one of my favorites, right next to Selseta plants...

He looks at me. "I thought berries were supposed to be sweet." He keeps his eyes on me as I reach for another handful. "You...like them?"

"Love them," I mumble, swallowing. He's not reaching for more berries, so I glance over at him. "Don't you like them?"

"Ah..." He looks away. "Not especially. My favorite foods are all sweet stuff...pastries, scones with strawberries and cream, Riovanes sweets, caramel anything..."

I pause. Sweet foods...I hate them. That sickly, thick taste rolling over the tongue and down the throat...hn. What an incompatibility. "I'm...not fond of sweet things..."

"Really?" His eyes skirt over my face before settling on my eyes. "Your eyes are the color of caramels. That's the first thing I noticed about you. I've always thought that you have beautiful eyes."

Is this the 'comparison with food' game? I want to play that, too. "I've always thought that your eyes were very attractive, with that dark red...like brandy. That's an interesting color...you must have a very distinctive family line for eyes like those."

His eyes dart down and away, his face going blank. "I'm the only one with eyes this color in my family. Everyone else has had green or hazel eyes."

...There it is again. That strange reaction that happens when he mentions his family...well, except for his sister. I promised myself I wouldn't dig any deeper...after all, I'm not willing to talk about my own family very much, either. "That's even more unique, then. My brothers had amber eyes, but my parents had eyes like my own..." He looks at me with a politely blank expression, and now I know to change the subject...um... "Can I have one of those apples?"

"Sure." He hands me one, then takes a bite out of the other. "This isn't bad."

I take a bite out of mine. It's at the threshold of 'sweet' for me, but there's enough sourness in the red fruit that I don't feel like throwing it away. "No, not at all."

We lapse into silence, with Beowulf slowly munching on his apple as I finish mine quickly, going back to the berries. It's not the most comfortable kind of silence, but as long as I can keep myself busy I don't mind. Soon the basket is empty and I'm looking for something to do. Looking up, I notice that the tree we're under has a lot of low branches...

"Should we go?" he asks like it would be a good idea to, but his eyes are...he still looks a bit bothered...?

I don't want to leave him if he's feeling disturbed about something.

Friends...friends don't do that, right?

"Not yet." I smile, looking up at the branches of the tree again. "I want to climb this tree."

He looks taken aback. "Climb...? Isn't that dangerous?"

He was in the war, and he thinks that my climbing a tree is dangerous? "Not at all." I try for a reassuring tone, but it comes out a bit rebellious. He raises an eyebrow at this, and I try smiling instead.

The other eyebrow rises, and suddenly I think I should just climb the tree already.

I stand and look around the tree for the lowest branch...aha, here it is. It's just above my head, so it's easy enough to grab the branch and hoist myself up. Next branch...there. Now I'm about two people of my height above the ground, and on a thick branch...I want to go out farther...

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Beowulf calls to me as I stand and inch away from the trunk. I nod and concentrate...more...more...mor--

I step directly on my blister. "Ah...ahh--!"

There's nothing solid below my feet as I twist in pain...falling...!

The branch rushes against my right arm, and as it smacks against my palm I close my hand on it...whew...not falling...dangling...much better.

"Reis!" I look down into Beowulf's intensely worried face...oh, he's right underneath me. He reaches up. "Let go and I'll catch you!"

I look up at my hand, still holding onto the branch. It's...it's not like I'm going to die now...or then, really. I'm not going to fall now. I can do this by myself.

I'm used to that, after all.

Raising my left hand, I grasp the branch fully and start pulling myself up...geez, maybe I should eat less...up...up...leg up...over...! Sighing in relief as my torso rests on top of the branch, a leg dangling over each side, I smile down at Beowulf. "I'm alright!"

The concern on his face doesn't lessen, but he nods warily, then lowers his head. "I didn't expect her to do that..." I hear him whisper. I try not to show that I heard that.

Didn't expect me to do what, exactly? Pull myself up?

Should I have just fallen instead? Let him catch me?

I couldn't have willingly let myself do that. This isn't a dangerous fall. And it'd probably hurt him if I let him catch me. I'm not exactly a feather, no matter how thin I look. Besides...I don't want to get used to him catching me. Protecting me. Doing things for me that I should be doing for myself. Even if I am a woman...

If I get used to that, what will I do when he's gone?

As much as I like him...it's scary to decide to depend on him.

And people, no matter who they are, no matter how much you love them and think that they're going to be around forever...that's not true at all. Everyone...everyone's alone at one point or another, aren't they?

If I decide to depend on him, I don't want to forget how to depend on myself.

But I have to get down eventually. I look down, where Beowulf's still standing below me, the expression on his face a mixture of concern and...well, whatever it is, he's not happy. "Reis, are you really sure you're okay there?"

"Yes, I like heights." Oh, this would be bad to ask now, but... "Do you want to join me?"

Now he just doesn't look amused at all. "Truth be told, I don't like heights."

I tilt my head to get a better look at him. "Why's that?"

"Well..." He looks down. "Sis pushed me off the roof of our house when I was nine."

...Great family. "It must've hurt a lot," I say sympathetically. I've fallen off high places before, and even if you know how to fall, it still hurts.

"Not really," he says in a thoughtful tone. "I fell into the laundry basket. But...I don't like the feeling of falling."

The feeling of falling? That rush that explodes up through the stomach, that feeling that can be experienced but not remembered right afterward? One of those feelings that screams that you're truly alive?

...Sometimes I don't like that feeling either.

"Oh," I respond. "I think I'm going to climb down now."

Beowulf's gaze is nearly too intense as he gives me a new strange look. "Jump, then."

...Isn't this the man who just got extremely worried when I fell? "What?"

"Or hang off the branch and fall." He raises his arms. "I'll catch you."

Is he serious? "I think I'm too heavy for you to catch comfortably...I might be too heavy and hurt you..."

He looks mildly surprised. "You look pretty light to me." I sigh at this. If everything were as they seemed, life would be so much simpler. "Besides, I doubt you'll hurt me."

You don't know that. If I don't fall right, I could hurt you a lot. "I don't know..."

"Reis," he says, baritone voice deeper than usual, "trust me."

"How do you expect me to do that so easily?" I snap. Wait, what did I just say? I turn away from Beowulf, not wanting to see his reaction to my harsh words.

Even if they are true.

"I don't expect you to do anything." His voice is carefully raised, but all things considered he doesn't sound anywhere near angry. "But am I really such a bad person that you would rather stay stuck in your current position rather than...than depending on me for just a little bit?"

I didn't mean it that way. I close my eyes. "A bad person...I've never thought of you as a bad person. It isn't because of you, but..."

I don't believe I can fall right, and I won't let someone else get hurt because of my inadequacy...

_--Run...ev'ryone..._--

Eh? What...? I don't remember...

...It doesn't matter. This isn't the time.

"Beowulf..." I open my eyes and look at him. He's still standing underneath me. "I believe that you'll catch me, but I'd rather land by myself."

"You'll break something," he says evenly.

But I won't hurt you... "Maybe."

He closes his eyes; when he opens them again the action is partnered with a small smile. "Are you really that worried about me?"

"...Yes."

His eyes narrow slightly, that smile still on his face. "Are you afraid to fall too?"

Always.

...Fine.

I purse my lips, then lift my right leg, resting it on the branch bisecting my body. "...It doesn't matter."

All that matters is the action.

Fall, or not?

Trust, or not?

Live, or not?

I want to be at Beowulf's level. I want to smile truthfully and reach out to people easily and reveal what's on my mind without fear of myself.

I can depend on two people at once, can't I?

"I'll try my best to fall right," I tell him, and the smile on his face could break through clouds. Moving my right leg off the branch to meet my left, I hold on with my hands and allow myself to fall. The rush isn't there, and I sway like a leaf for a bit before steadying myself. Beowulf moves so that he's before me, lightly touching my lower legs. I can't feel it through my boots, but I can see it and that's good enough. "Are you ready?" I ask and he nods.

I let go.

That rush happens for a second before I land heavily on him, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, my head in the crook of his neck. His arms are around my waist, and I feel the motion of going forward, although I think it's really backwards for Beowulf, before he steadies himself. "See, that wasn't so bad," he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling me.

"...No, it wasn't," I murmur, holding him tighter. He returns the gesture and I smile because I haven't been hugged in such a long time. I've forgotten how it feels to have another person hold me, how it feels to hold someone...we are tilting...why are we...? I'm falling forward, which can't be good because that's Beowulf's backward...! I remove my hands from around his shoulders before we land and a small shock goes through me. Immediately I prop myself up with my hands and look into his face. "Beowulf?"

He grimaces, then opens his eyes. "Well, that was slightly worse."

I lean up to get a better look at his face, eyes wandering about his features. "Are you really okay?"

"It could be worse," he says, closing his eyes. He doesn't seem like he passed out; after all, his lips are still moving...

_Mama and Papa in the kitchen, Papa has his arms around her waist_

I am suddenly acutely aware that Beowulf didn't let go of me...

_Mama smiles and wraps her arms around his neck and they lean into each other_

Beowulf's eyes are still closed, his lips moving with each breath he takes...

_I told Mama later what I saw and she said that it was called kissing_

I lean in, eyes closing...

_and you only kiss people you really really like_

Beowulf stretches beneath me, and my eyes snap open. "Reis, could you please move? My back hurts and I want to sit up," he says with his eyes still closed.

What am I doing!

Quickly I move off and away from him, sitting up as straight as I can and watching as he sits up and stretches again before opening his eyes. "Is something wrong?" he asks, regarding me curiously. I shake my head. I mean, what could possibly be wrong other than the fact that I nearly...nearly...that. Just because he asked me to fall into his arms doesn't mean I can take advantage of him while he has his eyes closed and his lips are trembling slightly with each breath...

Oh my God. Stop that.

"Do you want to leave now? The sun's setting."

Wow, I didn't even notice that...we've been out that long? It's amazing how the sunset decorates the sky in brilliant oranges and reds, just like the trees in autumn. "No...I want to stay a while longer..." I hear myself say. It's okay because I mean it.

"As long as you like," he replies graciously.

"Until after the stars appear?" I ask.

"Sure...but we should probably build a fire if we're going to be out here that long. It still gets cold at night." He looks at my outfit. "And your arms are exposed."

Hmm. I suddenly want to show off my usefulness. After all, the outdoors used to be my niche in life. "Alright, you get the firewood and I'll start the fire."

"Okay," he cheerfully agrees and stands, walking away from me. I stand and start kicking at the dirt with my left foot until I have a small pit, then I look around for a couple of jagged stones...hm...these should do. I crouch down in front of the pit and start hitting the rocks together. Hm...Papa had said to strike at an angle...I hear footsteps approach and I hit the rocks together even faster. Spark...spark...please spark... "Er...I understand the pit, but what are you doing?"

"Starting a fire," I say, not looking up. Spark...spark...hurry up...

"With stones?" He sounds incredulous as he crouches down next to me. He throws a few twigs into the pit. "That could take you forever."

This is tradition... "My father would start a fire this way."

"Oh," he says, clearly not convinced. "I'll start the fire."

Before I can hand him my stones, he closes his eyes, mumbles something underneath his breath that even I can't understand, and a flame appears between his right thumb and forefinger. He lowers the flame onto the twigs in the pit and a nice small fire starts up. "How did you...that's magic?" I've never seen black magic before...it must be weird to carry so much potential danger.

Magic seems more frightening than swords and knives because that power...it's a part of the user, isn't it?

He looks at me. "There are black mages at Murond, aren't there?"

Those creepy people with glowing yellow eyes and hidden faces? "Yes, but...I've never seen them cast a spell or anything."

"Ah. Well, it's really useful for more than just fighting."

Apparently so, if it can beat out tradition. "It must be hard to learn something like that."

"No, not really..." He moves back so that he's leaning against the trunk of the tree. "Nice night, isn't it?"

The sky is darkening into evening at a fast pace, but I wouldn't say that it was night...ah, who am I to pick at words? I have to do that enough at work anyway. "I suppose so." I move back and sit on his left, resting my back against the tree. As the sky darkens, the sky begins to sparkle with the light of so many stars...I don't think that anyone will ever figure out how many stars inhabit the sky.

It's the celestial light that the church in Lionel so desperately wants to be...

A streak darts through the sky, and I sit up. "A shooting star!"

"What?" I look over at Beowulf, whose night-splashed features can't hide the fact that he's confused. "That white streak just now...?"

I nod. "Papa once told me that if you make a wish on a shooting star, it'll come true. Is that a Lionel-only story?"

"No...I just forgot that saying. I think Sis mentioned it once." His expression looks a bit apprehensive. "Are you going to make a wish?"

"If you make one too." I smile when he nods, then I turn and look at the boundless sky speckled with lights that man could never duplicate.

I wish...I wish that I can find happiness in myself...

Looking over at Beowulf, I notice that his eyes are closed. When he opens them again, he seems to have relaxed somewhat. "What did you wish for?" he asks.

"...It's a bit private, but I'll tell you later." A lot later. "May I ask what you wished for?"

...Was that fear that just crossed his face...? "I..." He takes a deep breath with half-lidded eyes before looking directly at me. He places his hand on my shoulder and I look at it, then at his face.

Um...

"I wished for bravery so that I can do this..."

I open my mouth so that I can tell him that I already thought he was brave since he's a knight, but his face is looming before mine and...and...

He moves away, turning his face away once he looks at me. "Ah, sorry..."

I bring my left hand up to my face, pressing my fingers against my lips. They feel heavy, but the feeling of his...his lips still linger on mine...

He just...

Pressing my fingers against my lips even harder, I find that I can't duplicate the feeling. Truth be told, I can't even really describe it...it happened too fast.

Too fast for my liking...

I take in a deep breath, lowering my hands to my lap. "Beowulf, to tell you the truth, I...I've never been kissed before, and so I don't know...I mean, I've never felt that before, and...I was really shocked, and it happened so fast, so I..." Alright, I can say this. "I think I liked it, but to know for sure I'd...ah...would you...again?"

Okay, so it came out a bit muddled. But judging by the way that Beowulf has turned back to face me, he understood perfectly. "You...aren't angry?"

"No..." Considering that I was going to do that earlier, it'd be pretty hypocritical.

He stares at me intensely, then lightly places his hand on my shoulder again. As he starts leaning in, I quickly close my eyes and mouth, pursing my lips and waiting.

Anticipation is an eternity in a moment.

I feel his lips against my forehead and I almost feel like relaxing. His lips softly descend on mine, and my heart's beating really fast and my hands are clenching and why am I so nervous when this is Beowulf who's doing this?

He's the person I really, really like, after all.

Slowly I relax, slowly I press my lips against his. He responds to this by leaning into me, his hand on my shoulder moving across my back to my other shoulder. I can feel his fingers on the edge between the hem of the strap of my dress and my skin, softly rubbing the hem. My hands are in my lap and I almost want to touch him with them, but I don't know exactly where to touch, especially with my closed eyes, and I'm not willing to make myself look like a fool so I keep them there.

This increased senses thing is distracting. I can actually hear the rustling as his fingers move against the suede material...

He's deepening the kiss, which surprises me because I thought this kiss was plenty deep already. Well, not like I know how deep a kiss can be...so, hesitantly, I move my lips against his and he starts doing the same and suddenly I'm really liking this...

Ah...I need to breathe.

Hm, it seems awfully rude to just move my head back, so... "Mm," I mumble, and his lips press even harder against mine. Oops...he took it the wrong way. I move back--ah, air--and his eyes snap open, "I needed to breathe, sorry." I'm not really because I tend to like breathing, although...

"S-sorry." He looks away. Hm. His arm is still around my shoulders, and I smile at that.

That was...well...

I move so that I'm leaning against Beowulf, which seems to surprise him by the way his body went rigid. "I really liked that," I murmur, leaning my head against his shoulder and staring out at the stars. His arm tightens around me.

"Me too," he says, and I don't need to look up to know that he's smiling.

I feel so peaceful and relaxed, sitting like this...

Maybe my wish was granted?

-End to Eight-

I've never written such a detailed kiss scene before, I don't think...great, and I get to do this over and over and over again before this series ends. I hope it wasn't torture for you to read...

'Now I'm about two people of my height above the ground': To put this in relative terms (because Ivalice uses a different measuring system, sectas and all), Reis is about 5'8". I suppose Beowulf's around 6', and Buremonda's the same height as Reis. I'd say that the average male Ivalician is 5'8"-9", validating Reis' early comment about not finding many people taller than her.

These chapters are getting absurdly long. I wonder if people really like longer chapters...

Reviewers!

Mavina, that's a pretty cool name now that I understand it. A couple friends of mine play Diablo II (or have played, at least), and I like the name because it isn't from a person. It's like mountain worship, or something. I mean, since hymns are sung in church and all...  
Eheh...when you said 'knights' in your review, did you mean the women that Reis identified as white mages...? 'Cause, man, I don't know how you'll feel about the next chapter...; But, it's nice to have romance build up instead of 'love at first sight', which I don't really believe in. Well, maybe this chapter will make the story more romance-like, right?

Stacy/Nadia, I'm so happy to have caught your review before I posted up this chapter so I could write a note to you! I was very happy to receive your review. Let's see...Reis will eventually remember what happened--it is a huge thing in this story, of course--but not for a while. Hmm...I can't really answer most of your questions because they'll all be resolved before the story ends (seems that a couple of them will be resolved next chapter), but...no, Buremonda was the one who transformed Reis, but the Aquarius stone will have an effect. And, while he's not in the game per se, he is mentioned in both Reis and Beowulf's summaries in the Brave Story. I'm really pleased that you like the style in which the story is being told, as it's my preference in writing. I hope to see you again!

I forgot to do my 'thank you for reading and getting this far and for possibly writing a review' spiel last chapter, so I'll do it twice! Thank you for reading and please review if you have any comments or questions! Arigatou gozaimashita! Comment soretomo shitsumon ga arimasu ka? Review-shimasu kudasai! (Please excuse my pigeon Japanese, I only read the language...)

Chapter 9: Riovanes Sweets (_sweets for the sweet_): "It's such a shame that you're a total innocent. Cute, but a shame. What can someone like you do once everything starts going bad?"


	9. 9: Riovanes Sweets

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Nine: Riovanes Sweets (_sweets for the sweet_)

-0-

The sun is beaming down on me, bright blue skies free of clouds, and I'm not even outside. My senses are straining to convince me that I am indeed outside and not holed up in this library with this stupid, stupid book that refuses to end...

Ahh...I can't take this much longer. I need to feel the sun on my skin, the wind blowing through my hair...roughened fingers on my skin...gentle lips pressing against mine...

"Reis?"

Oh. Job. Right. I lower my head from its upraised position...ow, my neck...and I regretfully stare at the tome in front of me. I'm in the middle of the prophecies, but it feels like it'll never end... "Good afternoon, Verden," I try to say that as cheerfully as possible, but it comes out more like a plea.

Let me out of here, please...

"Good afternoon, Reis," Verden walks past me and sits down across from me. "Are you bored?"

"Well..." I...ah, what to say... "I guess it's just because the day looks so nice..."

"It's the end of May, so every day is especially pleasing to the senses." Verden's serene expression is so beautiful, like he's always at peace. Whatever the weather, I'm sure he'll always bare that face to the world. "Especially since summer's coming up."

I like summer. "You don't like summertime?"

He raises his hands and gestures to his white robes. "It's too hot when I'm waddling around in these robes."

I giggle. "You're not a squid-man, Verden."

"I feel as if I am one sometimes." He grins a bit, an unsure, almost graceless expression that distracts from his beauty. "But these robes are merely the physical weight of my sins, and I will bear them until my dying day."

That was...morbid. "They don't look heavy at all, so you must not bear many sins."

"You would be surprised then, Reis." He stares at me almost piercingly before adopting his tranquillity again. "But this is not an appropriate subject. I've come to ask you to perform a different job today."

If it gets me outside, I'll do nearly anything...

_--Reis, could you do me a favor?_--

...Right. Within reason, I'll do nearly anything. "What would you like me to do?" I ask quietly. As long as it doesn't increase the apparent antagonism between Beowulf and Verden...

He coughs slightly. "Well, every Friday the mail arrives for all the church-related members. It is the responsibility of the residents of the church to deliver the letters, so I designate a different person each week to do this job. It's very light work because the war has disrupted the flow of mail, and you really seem in need of fresh air."

I nod. "When you say 'all the church-related members', what does that mean?"

"Oh, I mean all the white mages in the church and the knights in the barracks." He looks at me questioningly. "So, can you do it today?"

I stand. "Where do I meet the delivery man?"

-0-

I'm in front of the gate leading to Bariaus Hill, staring out at my former home. A nervous little quiver rises in my stomach, and I look down.

I could go there any day. It barely even looks like an hour away...barely...

But it _feels_ far.

That feeling is more important than the actual distance. It's best to wait for now...

"'Ey, you from the church?"

I look up. A man dressed in dirty, non-class clothing is staring at me. Don't goblins wear those sort of clothes...? He has a few letters in his hand that he's holding out to me. "Yes, I am." I reach out and take them.

"A pretty one, you are." He looks at me, smiling strangely. "Not all covered neck down. Nice skin tone."

I take a step back, suddenly wary. My dark blue dress is long, and my black boots cover my legs from the shins down, but the short-sleeved white shirt under my sleeveless dress only goes up to the middle of my forearms. After all, it's such a warm day... "Is that package for me?" I ask, looking at the small brown box in his other hand. He looks at it, then at me, something dark in his hazel eyes.

I don't like the way he's looking at me at all.

"No, no," he says after a moment, "for me now. I'll walk you to church," his lips curl back, revealing yellowing teeth, but it's not as disturbing as that dull light in his eyes...

Don't look at me like that!

"It's really alright...I can manage by myself," I say, then I quickly turn and walk away, heading through the neighborhood streets back to the center of town.

I can feel his eyes all the way back to the church.

Once I'm there, I look at the letters in my hand. So few...hm, Verden was right about the war affecting the mail...let's see. "Aimiere Chiroseau, to Jeffre Chiroseau," I whisper. Oh, this must be from Chiroseau's daughter. Aimiere...I'll have to ask him what that means. "Irene Barkosu, to Scarlet Barkosu," who is that...?

_--That's what she deserves, you know. It's totally against the rules for us to have a relationship with a knight._

_Are you going to tell Priest Buremonda about her, Scarlet?_

_Why should I? After all, no one can hide a relationship for very long in a church_--

Oh. She was one of the three white mages in the bath that night, nearly a month ago. That's not someone I want to see. Last letter... "Amelia Darrow, to Beowulf Kadmus..."

...Who?

He never told me about an 'Amelia'...

Well, it's not like he's obligated to tell me about other women or anything...wait, what?

Why do I suddenly feel so...irrationally annoyed?

_--It reminds me of Sis too much_--

Maybe...maybe Amelia is his sister's name...?

I sigh. It has nothing to do with me. This is Beowulf's letter. Beowulf's letter has nothing to do with me other than the fact that I have to deliver it to him. Nothing to do with me otherwise. Nothing...

I'll deliver it last. I don't want to think about it right now.

-0-

I don't dislike many people. You have to care about someone first before you can bring up enough energy to actively dislike someone. But that Scarlet...

I don't want to think about it.

I'm heading towards the barracks, a feeling of dread encompassing my already bad mood.

Who is 'Amelia'?

Why do I care?

...I really am in a bad mood. It's been a long time since I've been immersed in one. What a horrible feeling. Being emotionally open has its setbacks.

I reach the barracks and knock loudly on the door. Ah, I needed to hit something. "Coming!" I hear, and the door opens to reveal a young man with black hair. It's so rare to see someone with such dark hair. His eyes are different too...is he from the Eastern Lands? "Good afternoon, miss." I stare as he bows, then I bow. His smile broadens after I raise my head.

"I'm looking for Sir Chiroseau...is he in?" The young man nods, then leaves. A moment later Chiroseau appears.

"Ah, Miss Reis. What can I do for you this afternoon?" Chiroseau smiles down at me as I hand him his letter, "Aimee, huh?" he says as his smile widens.

"Your daughter, right? She has a very nice name." I feel kind of uplifted seeing a father's smile.

Papa would smile like that all the time...

"Thank you, I was the one who named her." His smile becomes less exuberant, but it's still very happy. "Her brother's name is Pietre."

Aimiere and Pietre...? Interesting. "Do they mean anything?"

"Not anything awe-inspiring." He points at my right hand. "Is that another letter to a knight? I'll take it to him, if you like."

Oh. Beowulf's letter. "It's a letter to Beowulf," I say, nearly wincing at my flat tone. "Can you tell me where he is? I'd like to deliver it to him by myself."

Chiroseau's dark blue eyes flicker, but his smile still stays. "I hear you two have been having a wonderful time together." He pauses. "He's on patrol right now...he should be around the shopping area, pretending he's not distracted and actually alert."

I don't get it. "Why would he be distracted?"

Now he grins. "He's probably thinking about you."

And Amelia. I lower my eyes. "I don't know about that. Thank you, Sir Chiroseau."

"No problem. Have fun," he says warmly, then walks back inside, closing the door.

Ah...shopping street, huh? I turn around and start walking towards the main street, clutching Beowulf's letter in my right hand. I'm sure...I'm sure that Amelia is his sister.

_--Believe me, Reis, the last time I talked to a woman was when I last saw Sis_--

That's what he said when I was looking for thread. So, it must be his sister. Or it could just be a friend he hasn't talked to in a very long time. I mean, he was in the war, so it would've been hard to get ahold of him. This has probably been the most stable place for him in a long time, and maybe his friends back home--male and female--didn't learn about that until recently. After all, I don't know how long he's lived in Lionel.

So, maybe she's a friend. He's a very friendly person, after all. He made friends with me just because I told him I didn't have any friends...

_--Is that so? Well then, we'll have to do something about that_--

So, we're friends. But, I mean...we hold hands and kiss and...

I don't want to find out that he's doing that with other friends.

Seeing how other women react, and now my own anxiety, my own...jealousy, maybe...maybe women are inherently possessive.

That's disturbing. I don't think I like this about myself, about being a woman...

Looking up, I see that I'm in the shopping street, the town's main street. I look around. Since it's a nice day, there are so many people out, milling about and enjoying themselves. Children running around, daughters and mothers shopping for tonight's supper, young men in groups. There even seems to be some older men around, fixing up the street.

Through it all, I can see Beowulf down the street, his body turned away from me.

I make my way through the people, wiggling through the tight spots and slightly jogging where there's plenty of room through the shifting crowds. Just as I reach him, he turns in my direction, blinks, then looks down. Brandy eyes, his eyes, they widen and light up when they land on me, and I feel bad that...I've been having such dark thoughts about him. "Reis! What're you doing here?"

I hold up the letter in my hand. "There was a letter for you."

"Oh, Buremonda gave you mail duty, huh?" He takes the letter, looks at the front and smiles. "Ah, Sis. I knew it felt like a month since her last letter."

I feel so relieved...and slightly guilty. All that obsessing for nothing...good. "Your sister's name is Amelia...that's a nice name."

"I've never gotten into the habit of calling her by her name," he remarks, opening the envelope. "Will you sit with me while I read this?"

"Sure." I smile and we walk over to a wooden bench on the side of the street. He takes out a sheaf of paper from the envelope and begins reading it. I watch his face as he goes through the letter. It doesn't change much from the small smile he had when he started reading it, although his eyes seem to soften a little.

Even when they're far away, siblings should always be connected...

He finishes the letter and turns to me, a look of anticipation on his face. "So, where's my package?"

Package...? "I wasn't given one."

He looks a little stunned at this. "But Sis said she sent a package with the letter..."

Package...I saw a package, didn't I?

_--No, no, for me now_--

My eyes narrow as I clench my hands into nearly painful fists. That...that... "He had a package but he didn't give it to me!"

Beowulf's eyes widen. "Reis...?"

"He said it was for him now!" I exclaim. How...how could someone...that...!

"Reis, calm down, it's okay, it was just food..." Beowulf holds up his hands placatingly, and I lower my eyes. God, if I only had insisted...but that man was...the way he was staring at me...

I look up at Beowulf. "Food? What kind of food?"

"Riovanes sweets," he says promptly. Where have I heard that before...?

_--My favorite foods are all sweet stuff...pastries, scones with strawberries and cream, Riovanes sweets, caramel anything_--

Oh, it's one of his favorite...foods... "I'm sorry, if I had confronted him about it, you'd have your favorite food right now..."

He waves his hand, smiling lightly. "Don't worry about it. It's just food. Sis can always send me more."

It's kind of a waste... "I think I'll go back to work now," I stand.

"Wait...do you want to go out tomorrow night? My patrol's in the morning," his face is encouraging, but...

I have to...well, there's only one thing I can do before I feel better about all of this.

"Sorry, but I have some things to do. Goodbye, Beowulf," I wave and walk back into the crowd, then I dash towards the church.

I have to find a recipe for Riovanes sweets!

-0-

I open the door of the library, slightly out of breath. "Verden? Are you here?"

"Reis?" Verden is at my table, reading through my translation notebook. It's filled with the babbling of that incoherent saint...ah, I'd think nicer of him if he hadn't had to refer to how he was the 'son of God' _all_ the time. It's almost like he's too proud about that. I approach my table, and Verden stands up. "Your translation is incredible. Extremely easy to read while maintaining the style of the speech."

It's nice to know that I'm more understood than Ajora. I bow. "Thank you for your kind words. Could I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me absolutely anything, Reis," he says firmly.

Oh, good. "Is there anyone here from...from Fovoham?"

He looks away, arms crossed and seemingly deep in thought. "I...believe so. Several of the white mages are from that region." He looks at me with passive curiosity. "May I ask why?"

What to say...better not say anything about Beowulf. "I've heard about a delicious treat called Riovanes sweets. I thought I'd try and make some, but I need the recipe first."

"Oh." Verden looks interested. "I did not know that you could cook."

I frown slightly. What kind of thing to say is that? I'm a woman, of course I know how to cook. "It has been a long time since I last tried, but I think I'm capable of it."

"Of course," he says easily. "There is a kitchen on the other side of the church, as you know. I'll ask whoever's in charge to allow you unlimited access. Is that acceptable?"

That's a lot... "It's...that's fine, but I should only need an hour or so."

"Unlimited access," he repeats mildly. "As long as you're here, this is your home. Therefore, you should be able to use the facilities of this place to your liking."

Well...alright. "Thank you very much." I bow deeply, and when I look at his face again I notice that it's tinted pink. I hope he's not coming down with anything...

"I--I believe that most of the white mages should be in the kitchen, actually," he says, losing a bit of his admirable composure, "you should go there and find out your recipe."

I look at my notebook and that tome on the table. "I still have some work to do before the sun goes down, don't you think?"

"No." Verden smiles. "Go and find your recipe. And remember that tomorrow you have your day off."

Oh, right. "Thank you, Verden. I'll see you in church on Sunday."

He smiles benignly. "Reis, you always see me in church."

...Ah, right. "That's true, isn't it?" I bow, then I turn and leave the library. Okay, eating area...I haven't gone there since I started dating Beowulf, actually. I walk to the front of the church, then I walk down the length of that to the other side of the building...down, down...here's the door. I open the door and come face-to-face with Scarlet.

"Hello there." She looks at me oddly. "We don't see you here often enough."

"I suppose not," I mumble, suddenly feeling anxious. Oh, I should ask her... "Excuse me, but are you from Fovoham?"

Her face, normally clear and attractive, darkens. "Yes, why? Does my accent bother you or something?"

...Why is she getting defensive? "I didn't realize you had an accent."

"Oh, so you're the sort of person who only sees herself because you're so beautiful, right?"

What is her problem? I might be self-absorbed thinking this, but I don't care if she has an accent or a lisp or anything. "I don't understand. I was merely asking because I was hoping that you'd know the recipe to make Riovanes sweets."

"Is that so? Didn't think that a Murond cataloguer would even know the difference between yellow and red chocobos, not to talk of actually cooking." She sighs. "I'll go to my room and write it down so someone like you can understand it better." Brushing past me, she heads for the dorm area.

I frown. She's the second person today who doesn't believe that I can cook because I'm a cataloguer. That's really starting to get to me.

I enter the cafeteria, which is split up in two parts: the eating area in front, and the kitchen, which is accessible through a door across from me. There are a few other women here, all in their white mage uniforms. Now that I think about it, other than Verden, there's only women here, and they're all white mages. But I've seen a lot of male white mages at Murond...

I make my way to the kitchen door and push it open, my ears registering that the few occupants are whispering about me. I sigh and walk into the kitchen, where a woman, older than what seems to be the norm for the occupants here, glares at me. I take a step back. "What do you think you're doing here, missy?"

Okay, Verden said that I have the right to be here...don't be intimidated... "Um...Ve--Priest Buremonda told me that I was allowed to use the facilities here..."

"Oh, of course," the woman huffs, pushing back her dark blond hair as she storms past me for the door. "He would say that to his cataloguer..." The door slams shut behind her.

Everyone's so hostile to me...because I'm a cataloguer? That doesn't make any sense at all. They don't even know me...

Everyone was nicer in Murond...well, in a blank sort of way.

I really am different...but knowing that didn't used to hurt like this...

_--_tmptmptmp--

I turn just as the door swings open, revealing Scarlet, her long brown hair flying about her. "Here," she says in a clipped way as she shoves a crumpled piece of paper at me. I take it. "Don't mess up too many times. We don't have unlimited resources for you to play around with, you know." She gives me a thin-lipped smile before departing, the door following right behind her with a loud bang.

...Hn.

I look down at the paper she gave me...I can't read this handwriting...it's so sloppy. I close my eyes.

Well, I might as well try my best for Beowulf's sake. I don't want to end up poisoning him, although with the readability of this recipe it seems to be a foregone conclusion.

I open my eyes and look around the kitchen. It's very orderly, with shelves and cabinets in counters set parallel to each other. It's so big...and there's the stove and oven that...wow, that's not a wood-burning stove and oven. I walk over to it, set in the middle of the counter across from the door, and I carefully peer down at the stove.

This is so different from Mama's wood-burning stove and oven...I don't even know how to start this...

"That's a 'magic-powered set' from Goug Machine City."

I turn, completely off-guard. There's a woman at the door, dressed in the robes of a white mage. Her hood is down, revealing short auburn hair. I was paying so much attention to the...ah... 'magic-powered set' that I didn't hear her. "Um, excuse me?"

She walks over to me, dark brown eyes fairly sparkling. "Here, move a bit." I do as I'm told, and she stands in front of the stove. "See, instead of wood, it takes in magic like..." she raises her right hand and mumbles something before flicking up her index finger. A tiny flame appears and she sets it on top of the lower-right burner, which is the closest to her. A good fire starts immediately, and she quickly moves her hand away. "See how that works?"

I...wow! "That's amazing." But wait, I don't know any magic. I lower my head. "But I can't do that."

She mutters something else and waves her hand over the lit burner, freezing out the fire. "Can't perform magic...oh, _you're_ the cataloguer from Murond!"

Oh...now she's going to dislike me too.

She sticks out her right hand at me. "Penelope Mintopolous, otherwise known as Peppermint. I've been hearing the nastiest things about you, but it really is just gossip, isn't it?"

What an unusual greeting...but she seems nice. I hold out my hand to her, and she grasps it and shakes it a few times. "I'm Reis Dular, it's nice to meet you."

Peppermint...that's a familiar name.

_--So, what about Peppermint?_

_Oh, you won't believe it! She's actually still going steady with one of the knights!_--

Oh...she was the one Scarlet and the others were talking about. They said she was breaking the rules...

"Say, what's that?" Peppermint points at the paper in my left hand, and I wordlessly hand it to her. Maybe she can make sense of it. "Wow, whoever gave you this recipe really wants you to fail."

What? "Miss Scarlet gave me that recipe when I asked her how to make Riovanes Sweets..."

"Is that so? Well, it's a good thing you haven't started yet." She smiles at me, "I'll help you. First, there's a bag of rice in the cabinet next to the stove." I walk over to the cabinet on the left of the stove and bend over, opening the cabinet door and pulling out a huge bag of this...rice stuff. I set it on the counter. "'Kay, now turn around..." I do so, looking at the other side of the kitchen. "Cabinet on the counter in front of you, wooden circular bowl." I do as she says, and soon I have an oddly-shaped bowl and a bag of rice. "Now, pour out the rice into the bowl...scoop it--" I pick up the bag--it's probably more than three-fourths filled--and pour it into the bowl, quickly filling it without spilling any of this...wow, this is rice?

I put the bag upright again and place it back in its cabinet before picking up a grain from the bowl. It's a white oblong and very small. "I've never seen rice before..."

"You're pretty strong, aren't you?" she says kindly. "Anyway, rice comes from Fovoham, northern Lesalia and Gallionne, places with wide, ongoing fields. If you're from Murond, it makes sense that you've never seen rice before."

I bristle at this. Murond, Murond, Murond...everyone assumes that I don't know anything practical because I'm from Murond. "Actually, I'm from northern Lionel," I hope I don't sound like I'm being rude by correcting her, it's just...

I can't really say that I've lived at Murond.

"Same thing." She approaches me, taking the bowl of rice off the counter. "They're both Church-owned, right? I'm going to go draw some water and soak the rice, I'll be right back." She leaves with the bowl and the badly-written recipe.

Peppermint's a kind person, I think. She's pretty direct, kind of like Beowulf, but more...clipped in her tone and manner.

But she didn't _have_ to help me, so she has to be a kind person.

"Back," she announces, carrying the wooden bowl...where's the recipe? "Can you get me the lid, please?"

I look through the cabinet where I had found the bowl...ah, here's the lid...and I place it on top of the bowl. She places the bowl on the counter to the right of the stove and smiles at me. "Okay, meet me back here at...ten tomorrow morning, and we'll start on making it." She walks out of the kitchen.

She's nice, but she really is abrupt...

-0-

Riovanes sweets is a very interesting confection. I mean, the way it's prepared is so unusual. First, rice has to be soaked overnight. Then, it has to be steamed for a couple of hours. After the steaming, the rice is placed into a mortar--a small one, in this case--and pounded with wooden mallets and kneaded until it becomes...what is the word Peppermint used...ah, 'glutinous'. During this time, she had me simmer half a pot of berries with more 'pure' sugar than is probably healthy. Whatever she would say, I've immediately followed...which isn't at all like Mama's teaching style, but I don't mind.

I'm actually having a lot of fun.

"Okay, flour, same cabinet as the rice," Peppermint says and I bend over to find it...ah, here it is...and I give it to her, "okay, the berry mixture is thickening, right?" I look into the pot of berries and sugar, wincing at the sickeningly sweet smell, and stir at it with the wooden spoon in the pot. Ah, it's gooey.

"Yes, it's plenty thick," I look away from the mixture and watch as she liberally powders the glutinous rice, then deftly cuts it into fourteen squares. "What should I do next?"

"Turn off the stove," she says, and I stare at her. "Oh, right. Move aside." I do so and she flicks an ice spell at the burner. I really feel useless in the face of all this magic that everyone's flinging around...first Beowulf, and now Peppermint...I feel obsolete. "Now, tell me...who's this for?"

I blink at the sudden change of subjects. "Um...a friend."

She grins. "A boyfriend?"

I wouldn't call Beowulf a 'boy'. "A man friend."

She starts laughing then. "I mean a lover, not if he's a boy or a man!"

Lover...?

I...I don't love Beowulf...I just really, really like him. "No, not a lover..." I murmur, the words sticking in my throat.

Right now that's a bit much...isn't it?

"I...I see," she says quietly, "I just figured...ah, nevermind. So, just a friend?"

"...Yes." But it feels kind of empty saying that when I'm cooking for him. "We're just friends."

Peppermint looks at me sadly for a moment, then shakes her head. "He must be an indecisive man, then."

Indecisive? Beowulf? He can't be a leader if he's indecisive. "Why would you say that?"

"Be-because he's keeping around such an inhumanly beautiful woman like you, and he still hasn't made any sort of claim on you! If my boyfriend had been anything like your 'friend', I wouldn't even have bothered to keep loving him." She sighs. "In this day and age, if you don't make the guy adopt some responsibility in your relationship, you're just asking for a lifetime of regrets. He's a knight, right?" I nod slowly. "Figures. I don't think anything less would get close to you, especially since Priest Buremonda's probably keeping you under lock and key, since you're the prized cataloguer and all." I lower my head at this. I'm starting to despise that title... "Well, that means that you need your friend to make a commitment as soon as possible. It's never good to keep things up in the air."

I don't think...that's not up to me. And besides... "Thank you for your concern, but it's not really...it doesn't really matter to me."

As long as I can be around him, that's good enough. What's the point about stressing about labels?

Peppermint shakes her head. "It's such a shame that you're a total innocent. Cute, but a shame. What can someone like you do once everything starts going bad?"

Close myself off for another eight years and hope that this time no one will try to bother me and make me feel again, I guess. I stir the contents inside the now-cooled pot. "What should I do with this?"

"Bring it over here. We're going to put the filling onto one of these halves, then place the other half on top of it and close it off tightly." She pauses. "You really aren't like most women, Reis."

Apparently not. "Is that why everyone refers to me as 'the cataloguer from Murond'?" I succeed at not sounding bitter, all while placing the pot on the counter. Amazing.

"Nah, they do that because they're jealous. Priest Buremonda pays more attention to you than them." She gives me a spoon and scoops up some of the berry goop from the pot. "Not me, though. I already have someone."

"Why would they be jealous?" I scoop from the pot and place it on one of the halves. "I mean, Priest Buremonda's...a priest. Are Lionel's laws different than Murond's in that aspect?"

Peppermint cups a Riovanes sweet, trying to tighten it up. "No, not in that regard. But all of the white mages here...well, they're used to having Priest Buremonda pay attention to them, and give them pay raises and such. He's a really kind man, the perfect boss. But then you came around because he wanted you to, and because you're so much more beautiful than they are, because you come from Murond, because he's now usually in the library when you are...they're just really threatened by you."

That...doesn't make me feel any better. "Is that so?"

"And now this," she continues. "You're a nice girl, so I'll warn you now: don't let any of them know that you're 'just friends' with a knight. I know that they know that I'm with one, and they'll just let it go and let me get into trouble by myself, but you...I don't think that Priest Buremonda will let you go for something as serious as that."

I stop in the middle of cupping together a sweet. It's not just the white mages? "I'm not allowed to date, either? But I'm a cataloguer under Murond jurisdiction."

"Especially you, I think." She finishes tightening a sweet and sets it down to look at me. "Reis, have you ever felt jealous because you thought that your friend may like another woman?"

Oh, God. That, of all things, would haunt me. "But it was over a mistake..."

She waves her hand, a bit of flour flying into the air. "I understand. But you know, jealousy, possessiveness...all those sort of feelings aren't just female in nature. It's just that men and women react differently. And knights...oh, knights and priests just don't get along, period. That's just how it is." She nods once. "Almost done?"

"Yes." I place the sweet in my hand down. Seven good-sized Riovanes sweets are on the counter, which is a mess now with flour and berry goop. I go over to the other counter and pick up the wooden box gingerly. "Now this?"

"Mm-hm." She takes the box from me and places the confections inside, then hands me the box. "Go, give your friend the sweets. I'll clean up here, then I'm going to meet up with my darling." She lowers her head, then sighs. "I hope everything works out between you two."

What's with that sigh? "Likewise, Peppermint. Thank you for everything." I make my way to the door, then I turn back to her. "Maybe sometime, we could talk more...?"

It's such a risk to extend myself like this...maybe she only likes me for now. I would really like a female friend, though...my last one was Mama.

"Yes, sometime soon. You can tell me what your friend thought about the Riovanes sweets." She smiles widely at me. "Now, go."

And this, like any of the other orders she gave me in the kitchen, I follow.

-0-

I stand before the door to the barracks, hands clean, clothes plain but still form-fitting, hair down and heart pounding. Oh God, is my heart pounding.

I'm submitting my cooking skills to scrutiny--well, mine and Peppermint's, really--and that's making me feel really nervous. And, of all things, it would have to be a favorite food, and I haven't tested my skills in such a long time, and I'm sure if it's bad it's going to be even more obvious because it's a favorite food...

I take a deep breath. I did the best I could, so stop that...

Knock on the door...

Timidly, I move the box to the crook of my left arm and raise my right hand. Loose fist...bring it down...

_--_knok...knok...knok--

I pull back my hand and quickly turn my head away from the door. If I was going to knock that slowly, I should've only knocked twice...

"Coming!"

No, no! I'd much rather go to you! That way I can take my time instead of you hurrying towards me...I choke back a moan at my bad luck and try to turn my head towards the door just as it begins to open. "Reis?" Oh, it's Beowulf. How...how lucky... "I thought you were busy?"

Well, I suddenly became unbusy...wait, 'unbusy' isn't a word. "I...I wanted to see you," I mumble, "can...can I come in?"

Oh my God. What am I saying? This is like going into a behemoth's den...

He opens the door wider, waiting for me to pass through before he closes it. It's a bit darker in here, but since it's only mid-afternoon that doesn't mean much. It's still messy, but the windows are open. "Let's go to my office," he suggests, softly placing his hand on my right shoulder blade. I tense up and he removes his hand. Wait, wrong reaction!

I'm hopeless.

Walking stiffly forward, I somehow make it into his office. Beowulf follows behind, and when I look up into his face there's only concern there. "Is something wrong, Reis? You look kind of...stressed."

It's that obvious? "Is...is that so..."

"Well, your face seems normal." I'm sure he means 'blank', because that's my default expression. "But your eyes give it away." He stops, and I see his dark eyes focusing in on my box. "What's that?"

Okay, this is it. I hold out the box to him with both hands. "Ah...it's for you."

He takes it, staring at me oddly before lifting up the cover. "Is this..." he starts in a hopeful tone, then he picks up one of the sweets and takes a bite of it. He looks at me, stunned.

Oh God, I knew there was too much sugar! Or maybe we didn't pound on the rice long enough...maybe everyone was right in doubting my abilities...

"This is really good!"

Eh? I watch him as he pops the rest of the sweet into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before focusing on me again. "You really didn't have to go through all that trouble for me, Reis." He smiles warmly at me and suddenly all that tension melts away and I'm happy, so happy...

"It wasn't any trouble at all, Beowulf," I say, smiling widely. My face is unused to the action, so I smile wider. Oh God, this is my moment...

He places the box onto his almost-orderly desk, still smiling at me like I'm really, really special. I _feel_ really, really special. "If you say so, but I'm sure it was hard to find a peddler selling Riovanes Sweets, no matter what you say."

...What?

Peddler?

But I made those--with help, but still--and he thinks I bought them instead of making them...why? "I...I didn't buy them from a peddler..."

Now he looks thoughtful. "Ah, so the mailman returned it? That's a first..."

He didn't return them, I made them...but that's not an obvious solution, is it? I completely drop my smile. "He didn't return your sister's package, either."

"Hmm, now that I think about it, these are fresh...oh, you made them," his tone is full of wonder...of course, "I'm really impressed, Reis. They're perfect."

Yes, they're so perfect that they must be bought. Of course.

I lower my head. I want to say something really harsh to him, because I...

That really hurt my feelings.

Verden, Scarlet, and now Beowulf...no one seems to think that I'm competent in any feminine skills. I'm just a cataloguer from Murond, all I should know is how to file away books and translate, right?

It's not like I had a life before Murond.

I've really lost that part of me, that essential part...

"Reis, what's wrong?" Beowulf leans down before me so our faces are the same level. He reaches out and touches my face, softly cupping my cheeks in his large hands. Something soft, the flour of the sweets I think, streaks along my left cheek and I close my eyes. "I can't do anything unless you tell me what's bothering you."

I... "Why didn't you first assume that I had made the sweets?" The words softly brush past my lips, and I could just wince at how utterly stupid I must sound.

It is a stupid thing. It's incredibly, without doubt, ridiculously stupid.

It means everything to me.

"Hmm..." he mumbles, "probably because I know that you're incredibly beautiful and amazingly intelligent and adorably naive." My face reddens at this. "But a great cook as well? That's almost too much for a simple knight like me." I feel his lips against my forehead. "You're always surprising me. What else is in your repertoire?"

"Well, I--" I begin, and he quickly removes one of his hands from my face and places a finger against my lips. I open my eyes and I see him smiling at me.

"Don't tell me, I want to find out on my own." He moves his finger from my lips, his hand gently adrift on my face. His thumb lightly presses against the bottom of my lower lip, and my eyelids flutter closed just as his lips touch against mine. My lips are parted slightly, as are his, and I can taste the overly-sweet berries on his breath. My tongue darts across his bottom lip, flour dissolving on the tip of my tongue.

But even while I'm doing this, I feel twisted inside.

This woman who is engaged in a kiss, is she the same girl who was training to be the perfect hunter's wife? Could this desolate shell and that lively spirit actually be connected?

Maybe my memories are lying to me.

-End to Nine-

On Verden Buremonda: Yes, he exists in the game. No, he was never shown as a sprite. The only time he is mentioned is in Reis and Beowulf's Brave Story summaries. His ultimate fate is never revealed in the game. Vague, isn't it? That just makes it fun for me...

Reviewers!

Mavina, I'm really happy that you liked the kiss scene! I'm still pretty weirded out writing those scenes in 1st person, but it's getting a lot easier. I usually don't like reading those scenes because of the hyperbole that goes on... -shudders- But no, I don't have any talent for you to take, I'm struggling enough as is!

Luna-chan! I'm so happy to see that you're around! I just don't feel like I'm writing a series until you pop up . Anyway, I hope that you show up more often, I actually post every week now, unlike Shidareyanagi...eh. I hope that all is going well with college--tell me if I'm wrong about that--and try not to get too stressed out, okay? By the way, thanks for the summoner gown idea, but I looked at a picture and since Reis needed something that's easier for another person to pull off...just kidding, mostly :)

Star Eevee, nice to see you! I hope to hear from you again once you've finished off all the available chapters, but I really appreciated your comments as they are now. Gee, I hope that you like the story more and not less by the time you see this note. And thanks for caring how I'm doing in relation to writing and posting, that really made my day.

I would love to hear from any would-be reviewers, especially since we're hitting nine chapters and two months in the weekly serial that is _Within Holy Walls_! Questions and comments are always appreciated, but if you're reading and still hesitant on reviewing or don't care to, it's all good. I mean, at least you're reading!

Chapter 10: Alone (_I Tingle_): 'As the young boy pads through the library to my table, I can only focus on one thing, one amazingly singular thing that hits me deep in my stomach and just won't let go.

He looks exactly like my brothers...'


	10. 10: Alone

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Ten: Alone (_I Tingle_)

-0-

_"What is your name, child?"_

_"...R-Reis Dular."_

_"Where were you living?"_

_"...Bariaus Hill."_

_"With your family?"_

_"...Yes."_

_"Do you know what happened to them?"_

_"..."_

_"Priest Aurius, she doesn't seem to know what had transpired. A scout has been sent to Bariaus Hill, but the only remains are those of the Ordalian deserters. She was the only living human found there, and she seems rather...ah, traumatized. She won't speak unless asked, and is generally unresponsive to most outside stimuli."_

_"Do you think she understands what we're saying right now?"_

_"It is a mystery. Head Cataloguer Triffre wants to work with her. It seems that she rather likes looking at books, though it can't be proven that she can read. What do you think, Priest Onoti?"_

_"That's fine. Although it isn't possible to help every child with the war raging on, there is a possibility we can help her and give her a new life..."_

I open my eyes, quickly closing them at the obscenely bright sun. Work...no, day off today. Good. Rolling over away from the window, I close my eyes again.

A new life...something happened to start that. But as much as I've been sifting through my memories as of late, I don't know...I can't remember. Even though I've been voluntarily drowning myself in them...

Pressing my hands against the bottom of my rib cage, I can feel the length of the scar through my thin nightgown. It doesn't hurt--it never hurts. It's the brand of my new life, laid out in such a way that I can never forget that I've forgotten.

Is what happened to my family really a forgotten event?

I can't...that's really horrible...what's wrong with me...always, with me...

Stop that. _Stop._

I'll go see Beowulf. Yes. When I'm with him, everything's okay...

Usually.

-0-

It's easy enough to change into a long, peach-colored dress befitting of the early June climate, just as easy as it is to slip on my brown traveling boots and stroll out of my room, out of the church and over to the barracks. It's so easy to move and do the things I'm expected to do. Of course, it would be hard--impossible, most likely--to just stroll outside with my nightgown and bare feet, because that's not what I'm supposed to do.

Lately, I've been really thinking about that. What I'm expected to do, what I'm supposed to do...

But why?

Why am I the one doing these things? Why are we all doing these things? What brought us into this situation where we live each day in complacence, lazily drifting from bed to work to bed, with breaks in-between for sustaining our bodies and minds? And when I try to reach out and do something different, try to tap into my old life...

_--Why didn't you first assume that I had made the sweets?_--

It's been a little more than a week, but that still bothers me. I know that Beowulf's noticed that I haven't been myself, but he's waiting for me to say something first. But from his last answer...he wouldn't understand.

Maybe...maybe I expect too much from him.

Until that moment, it never really hit me that...that he isn't a mind reader. For all his admirable traits, he's still human. Within that kind smile and brandy gaze are things I can't even begin to imagine.

If he can't expect me to make him his favorite food, what else does he think I can't do?

I realize...I'm not being fair to him, but I'm still disappointed. It's been a while since I've felt like that. When I was alone, I didn't have to expect anything from anyone but myself...and I've never expected anything from myself.

I don't understand...why him? I wanted to stay beside him because I wanted to be like him, but...it's a bit beyond that now, isn't it?

I don't think I'm in the position to go any more beyond than this.

...Silly me, just staring at this door. Just beyond it is Beowulf...wonderful, kind Beowulf who eats with me and holds my hands and kisses me.

Beowulf, the man who has made me alive enough to open my memories to myself.

They tell me that I should be living a life that's not drifting, a life where I'm not alone, where I'm accepted for who I am and not what my job is.

I smile bitterly. It sounds like an unattainable fantasy, but once, so long ago...

Raising my right hand and forming it into a fist, I knock on the wooden door. "Come in!" Ah, that's Beowulf's voice for sure...I open the door and notice that, while it's only past eleven, there's no one else here. Seems like Beowulf is in his office, working as usual.

I guess we're all drifting.

It's a bit cleaner in here than usual, which doesn't mean anything except that there's less clothing on the floor but more on the beds. As long as I don't have to avoid clothing on the floor, it's good enough. I walk down the room, through the narrow corridor and into the small, sparse office. "Good morning, Beowulf." I try to sound as cheery as possible, even adding on a smile for effect. He looks up at me from his desk and smiles.

"Good morning to you too." He looks at me curiously. "You don't usually drop by unannounced like this. Is everything okay?"

No. Not really.

I lower my head, clinging onto my smile. "I felt an urge to visit you...am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not..." He seems to be considering something. "Well, truth be told, I was just thinking about you."

I wonder if he's been thinking the same thoughts that I have been...no. I can't imagine Beowulf going into self-pity as willingly as I do. I look at him, into that honest expression...no, it's not just an expression, it's who he is.

I struggle to keep smiling.

His red eyes seem to darken a bit. "Reis, you don't have to smile for my sake."

...Why is he so contradictory like this? One minute he's completely dense

_--If you say so, but I'm sure it was hard to find a peddler selling Riovanes Sweets, no matter what you say_--

and the next he's scarily observant

_--But you seem guarded. Like you're not used to being around people for too long_--

and it always puts me off-guard.

I drop my smile, and it's a relief to do so. "I am distracting you. I'm sorry. Please, just go back to your work. I...I just want to be around you for a while." He gives me an odd look. "Please."

The odd look flares into an intense gaze. "Reis, if there's something you want to talk about, I'm right here. I'll always be here for you." His eyes...I feel as if they're looking through me... "You're not alone."

What do you know?

'Always'. 'Not alone'.

Words don't mean anything unless you prove it. Otherwise, they're just self-serving drivel designed to make you feel like you're really doing something.

But words are just words.

"Don't worry about me, please. Just go back to work."

Just like those.

If I believe in your words and you believe in mine, then that's not communication so much as it is trading pleasantries.

Beowulf stares at me for a moment longer before sighing and going back to his papers. Not at all pleased with my 'victory', as it were, I let my gaze wander around the room, then his desk...oh, his stone. I pick up the deep blue, pitcher-shaped stone from atop a stack of papers, turning it over and over in my right hand. Beautiful and unbreakable...

"You can have that, if you like." I glance over at Beowulf, who seems back in good spirits. I can have this stone? But...

"Beowulf, didn't you say that this was your family heirloom?"

He looks at me blankly. "It's also my paperweight."

That still saddens me. I mean, any old rock can be made into a paperweight, but instead he chose something passed down through his family for who knows how many generations. "It's something too precious to be given to just anybody." And that's completely true because I'm just...

"Reis," he says firmly, "you're not 'just anybody' to me. You're important to me."

But all I do is follow your pace...

"Beowulf..." As much as I would like to keep the stone, it belongs to his family.

Family...is much more important than a friend...

"Reis." He smiles and my resolve weakens. "I know that you can treat it the way it deserves to be treated, that's why I'm entrusting it to you. Alright?"

He may have a point there. Fine, fine. I slip the stone into a side pocket, then I bow. "Thank you very much." I raise my head and I see an amused smile on his face. "Yes?"

"Well..." his smile widens, "has anyone ever told you that you're too polite sometimes?"

_--Wasn't she creepy? All quiet and polite...oh, she's weird!_--

I look straight at him. "Not to my face."

"Ah...well, I think that it's cute." He leans forward from his desk. "You're always so interesting. I'm never bored around you."

It's nice to know that I'm entertaining...I think. A small smile creeps onto my face. "...Likewise."

I...feel a bit better. Beowulf is good at that, most of the time.

_--_tmoptmoptmop--

Boots stomp on their way over here...one pair, so that's one person. I turn to the doorway as Chiroseau walks through. He looks pleasantly surprised to see me. "Good afternoon, Miss Reis."

Afternoon already? "Good afternoon, Sir Chiroseau." I notice the look he's giving to Beowulf. "Should I leave?"

"No," Beowulf says quickly, and Chiroseau stifles a cough that sounds suspiciously more like a chuckle. "Chiroseau, don't tell me I'm forgetting something again."

Chiroseau raises an eyebrow. "That depends. What do you think tomorrow is?"

Beowulf's face goes blank. "...Tuesday...?"

"Think a little harder than that, I know you can do it." Chiroseau smiles. "I understand that your mind has been clouded lately, considering your relationship with the lovely Miss Reis, but tomorrow's a bit more important right now."

Don't get me involved...I glance over at Beowulf, who looks confused...then his eyes light up. "Zaland, right?"

Zaland...as in, Zaland Fort City? What about it?

"Yes, Zaland. Which one of us is going tomorrow?"

Going...?

"I am, right? It's the ambassador's daughter that's arriving, so it's appropriate that I go." Beowulf doesn't sound too happy about that.

I don't feel happy about that, either.

Chiroseau shrugs. "That normally would be true, but on Wednesday..."

"I remember." Beowulf holds up his hand as if to stop Chiroseau's words. "I remember that. I don't care, though. I'll go to Zaland, you stay here. Understood?"

"...Understood." Chiroseau nods, then leaves. After giving me a glance, Beowulf stands up and walks over to me.

"I'm sorry." He smiles sheepishly at me. "If I had remembered, I would've told you sooner. You see, the ambassador of the Eastern Lands lives in Zaland and his daughter is coming over from their country to visit him. She's also performing at the annual ball that the nobles hold in this town."

Performing? Ball...? I...don't understand. "What's a ball?" I feel so stupid asking, just because it sounds so...ridiculous. I mean, a ball is something sphere-like that people throw, but now it has a different meaning...why? I can't stand homonyms.

"A ball is a...it's like a huge party. It's in late July. Supposedly the ambassador's daughter is an accomplished singer, and having her sing at the ball will tighten relations between the Church and the Eastern Lands. It's a good will sort of thing." He places his hands on my shoulders. "I'll be gone for about a week."

...And that's something that's easy to forget? I stare at him. "I see."

Lightly, he rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. He...he seems tired... "Reis, will you be okay by yourself?"

You don't have to say that like I'm helpless... "Don't worry about me, Beowulf. I'll be fine."

He makes a small noise from the back of his throat. "Reis..." he murmurs, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and holding me to him. He kisses my forehead. "I really...I wish I could take you with me."

Me too. "You could always bring me back something."

Like yourself.

"You wouldn't even take the paperweight at first, and now you're asking me to buy you something?" I can feel his bottom lip curve against my forehead. "Sure, I'll buy something nice for you."

I never said 'buy'... "It's okay, I don't really care."

"Don't worry about it." He places one of his hands on the back of my head, and I can feel his fingers running through my hair. That feels good... "But can you see me off tomorrow? I kind of need my cape back anyway."

You want me to watch you disappear...? "A-alright."

"I'll leave at noon then, so you can leave on your lunch break." He stops his hand's soothing movement suddenly. I stifle a sigh of disappointment. That felt nice...

"Thank you for your consideration."

I can hear his chuckle rumble deep in his chest as his hold tightens around me. While we've been dating for about a month now, we don't really hug all that much. We do kiss a lot, but I find that...that a hug is probably even more intimate than a kiss. Lips against lips is one thing, but holding my entire body against another's is...really special.

Being surrounded like this...I'll be even lonelier when he lets go.

This is bad...all I do is depend and want and need, and I'm not supposed to.

What am I supposed to do?

Beowulf holds onto me like this, and all I do is think that I shouldn't get used to this feeling. I'm not being fair to him. I'm never fair to him, I guess.

Slowly, so slowly, I raise my arms and wrap them around his waist, relaxing into his embrace. The material of his uniform is scratchy against my bare skin, but I don't mind. I hug him tightly, enjoying how he feels so utterly _there_. His lips curve even more on my forehead, and I smile.

What's harder: being let go of, or letting go?

My smile fades.

Do I really have to find out?

-0-

I struggle to concentrate as I wait for the noon bells to ring. Underneath my chair is a bag with Beowulf's cape. I would've liked to wash it, but I was afraid to ruin the material. Okay, concentrate on the text...

_Intent is the most important thing in the world. Without intent, there would be no evil, there would be no good. There would be nothing, nothing but empty shells masquerading as humans, and within that nothingness lurks nothing._

...I would rather fidget. Oh, there's more.

_...and within that nothingness lurks nothing, and in the end, evil will still reign. In nothing there is no evil, there is no good, but evil only requires a partial victory while good needs a complete victory. Such is the way of the world._

Is that so? If that's true, what's the point if evil's just that much greater? It's almost as if Ajora's trying to say that our efforts don't matter in the end. He writes like this a lot.

And here I thought that my opinion of Ajora couldn't be any lower...

_--_dingdingDONGding--

Finally! I reach underneath my chair and grab my bag, then I jog out of the library and to the church's entrance. I start sprinting down the streets towards the northern entrance into town.

Bariaus Hill looms just ahead of me.

I can see four yellow chocobos at the gate, and four men--two blond, two with dark hair--in complete Shrine Knight armor. Slowing down, I comb through my loose hair with my fingers and straighten out my dress. I hope I don't look dishelved...that wouldn't be a good way to look for a farewell...

I stop, the bag swishing back and forth in my left hand. Farewell, huh...

Oh, stop that. He'll be back in a week. A week isn't all that long.

Actually, it's a fourth of the time we've spent dating. An eighth of the time we've known each other.

...I certainly know how to cheer myself up.

One of the knights has noticed me and is approaching...oh, it's Beowulf. I really should pay more attention to details like hair color and the color of the cloth hanging down in front of the armor. I walk over to him, pulling out his cape from the bag. "I'm sorry if I'm late," I say when I reach him.

"You're not late at all." He takes the purple cape from me and starts putting it on. "Just when I thought I couldn't be any hotter. I hate this armor."

And I hate the book I have to translate. I guess every job has its bad parts. "Maybe you should leave at night?"

Yes, stay a little longer...

"Night through Bariaus Hill?" He finishes pinning his agrafe and stares at me with arched eyebrows. "I thought you wanted me to return alive?"

...Oh, right. I forgot that it was dangerous. I guess it didn't really seem that way so long ago... "That's true. Well..."

What do I say now?

"You know," he says conversationally, as if he weren't leaving, "I wanted to buy a mirror before I left."

...? "For what?"

He smiles, but it's not his usual smile. It...I feel depressed looking at it. "For you, so you'd know just how beautiful you look all the time. Not just to me, but...anyone who even glances at you would see that."

Is that really important? "I'd rather just hear it from you."

"Reis." He raises his right hand and touches my face softly. My eyelids try to drift downward, but the touch of the metal gauntlet is cold against my cheek. That bothers me. The first time he touched me was with this metal-covered hand, but...

It was the first time I had been touched in such a long time, back then...

Now, I can't help but be discriminatory about how I'm touched.

"Beowulf..." don't go, "be careful."

He looks at me, deep into my eyes, and I know he's not going to kiss me goodbye. Understandable, since his men are behind him, but... "I'll see you later, Reis. Take care of yourself."

I hold his gaze for as long as I can before I need to lower my head. It's an instinct to do so, practically. "You too, Beowulf."

His cold touch lingers a moment longer before he puts his hand down, turns, and walks away.

I don't raise my head until I hear the chocobos sprint out of town.

-0-

I'm late coming back to work, and it doesn't surprise me to see Verden sitting in his usual seat. He looks up at me worriedly. "Are you alright, Reis? I was starting to wonder where you had gone to."

I slide into my seat, placing the bag onto the table. It makes a loud thunk as I do so, and Verden gives it, then me, curious glances. "I'm sorry I was so late. I wanted to buy something for my room."

"Oh?" Verden looks even more curious now. "A decoration of some sort?"

Pulling down the sides of the bag, I reveal my purchase. "I've always liked to sew at night."

It cost a lot of money, but this nice lantern and flasks of oil will keep my room nice and cheery as I sew into the night.

It's so nice to not think sometimes.

-0-

"Reis--!"

I turn around from my door and see Peppermint approaching me. "Yes?"

She ruffles out her short hair, looking a bit depressed. "Did you hear?"

You? Perfectly. "Yes."

"Yeah...I mean, I was happy to hear that my darling was considered capable enough to head on over to Zaland and take care of the 'singing princess' as he called her, but I really wish he didn't have to go, you know?" She sighs, a wistful smile on her face.

...Oh, that's what she meant. "Your..." Ah, what was that word that she used... "Your boyfriend left too?"

She looks at me curiously. "Your friend went too, huh? Oh, what did he think of the Riovanes sweets?"

"He liked them a lot. Thank you for your help again." I bow, but Peppermint smiles and shakes her head.

"It's no problem. Really." She straightens out her robe. "Hey, since we're both single for the week, do you want to do something sometime? We rule-breakers and generally ostracized women have to stick together, right?"

That sounds like fun--I think--but... "No, thank you. I've been meaning to catch up on my sewing for a while now." I raise my bag up so that it's level with my head. "I've really neglected it lately."

"It's fine." She smiles. "I guess I'll plan out something to cook for when he returns. Well, the offer's still open, okay?" She waves and walks past me, opening the door to a room three doors down from my own. I like her, but I don't really see her around that much.

I enter my room, closing the door behind me. I sit down on the floor, back resting against the bed, and I pull out the lantern and a flask of oil from the bag. Hm...interesting. I unscrew the bottom of the lantern and pour half the flask into a special compartment, then I screw it back together. Now, if I turn this...a nice yellow flame bursts to life inside the glass. Ah, perfect.

I didn't buy any new cloth just yet, so I'll repair some of my clothes.

As long as I have a needle and thread, I don't need anything else.

I don't need anyone...

-0-

Uh...this doesn't feel like my bed...I'm upright. My face feels like it's being poked by a needle...

I raise my head from my knees, bleary-eyed and not at all awake. I look down into my lap, where there's a white shirt that I had been mending...why is there a spot of red on this...

Blood?

I bring my left hand up to my face, gently feeling around until my fingers brush against something that brings a twinge of pain to my face. Ah, that would explain that feeling. I pull out the needle, and my face thanks me by being even more in pain. Great...

The red of my blood draws my attention back to my shirt. Red...that's almost the shade of a red dragon's skin, which is just a bit more red than Beowulf's eyes...

Stop that.

I turn and inspect my lantern, which had burned out a long time ago. It works so well, I wish I had bought one earlier. Sewing is so much fun...I should've spent all my time on that from the very beginning...

It's a worthwhile thing to do.

Let's get ready for work...

-0-

_--_dingdingDONGding--

I stop writing and listen to the bells. Fourteen...it's only two in the afternoon? Time seems to go by a lot slower, especially since Verden was here at ten for a short while, then he excused himself. I've been alone ever since, and...it's really getting to me.

What's wrong with me? I used to not mind it at all. I used to welcome it...

I close my eyes.

That's a lie.

It would've been true, but I'm no longer as closed off as I used to think I was. I'm trying, really trying, but...

Do I want to go back to that sort of existence?

Making clothes but never wearing them. Always. Coldly polite to ward off other people. Alone.

Is that existing?

I open my eyes.

I don't know how else to exist when I'm alone. It may not be the best way, but for now it's alright.

But when Beowulf returns, what do I do then? What do I do the next time he has to leave? How can I flip between 'closed' and 'open', especially for the sake of one person?

I want to be 'open' all the time, but it hurts when I'm alone. He can't be with me all the time, after all. All my feelings are greater, like happiness, sadness...

But being 'closed' all the time...because of that, because of eight years of being closed off, I don't understand anything. My face hurts if I smile too much.

Either way...I don't like it.

"Um...hello?"

A boy's voice...? I turn to look at the door from my seat and I see a boy dressed as a knight would in a casual setting, a long-sleeved beige shirt and thigh-length boots with dark tights underneath. It's kind of hard to see his face, though, because the sunlight behind him is...kind of blinding. "Hello," I call out, "come in."

He looks down. "O-okay."

As the young boy pads through the library to my table, I can only focus on one thing, one amazingly singular thing that hits me deep in my stomach and just won't let go.

He looks exactly like my brothers...

Oh, God...what is this?

This boy finally stops next to my seat, a respectful distance away. His tousled brown hair--_yes_--slightly falls into his warm brown eyes--_no_--and while he's not anywhere near my height, it seems that he's been training with weapons for a while, judging by the way he carries himself. He's probably almost a teenager.

About the right age...

"Is there something I can do for you?" I smile, and he has the weirdest reaction. He blushes.

"N-no, I...I was just looking around and I kind of stumbled into here--I mean, this place." He looks away. "Sorry, this is my first time here i-in Lionel."

It's strange. He seems so nervous around me, but I... "Is that so? Where are you from?"

He looks at me, quickly becoming more at ease. "I'm from Bervenia, ma'am, but I normally stay in Murond."

In Murond...and I never saw him. How strange. "I'm from Murond...well, kind of. My birthplace is northern Lionel."

"You sound like you come from Murond, ma'am." He smiles and my smile widens because that's the first time in a while that I've heard something like that and it didn't sound like an insult. "What are you doing here...ah, I mean...sorry to be rude." He looks down.

He's as shy as Quain...how cute! "You weren't rude at all. I used to be a cataloguer, but now I'm translating a book of Saint Ajora's prophecies into modern Ivalician."

He looks at me with a wondrous expression shining from his face. "You must be really smart, ma'am."

_--Big sister is so smart..._--

"Would...would you like to learn ancient Ivalician?" I can't help it...I can't help myself.

I want him to stay around me.

Looking down, he fidgets slightly. "I...is that really alright? I'm not really smart, not next to my sister, and I won't be here for a long time, so..."

"Don't worry about it." I smile warmly at the boy and he seems to calm down. "I would be honored to teach someone like you."

He looks so happy. "Wow, really? I'd really like that, ma'am..."

Is he happy...because of me?

I hope so...

I nod, trying to hide my sudden giddy excitement. "Please, sit down next to me." He blushes and walks past me, taking the chair on my right. "And please, my name is Reis Dular. Please call me Reis."

The boy looks at the table, then straight at me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Reis. I...I'm Izlude Tingel, son of Sir Vormav Tingel, the head of the Shrine Knights."

...His father certainly has a long title. A sudden mischevious spark flares up inside me. "Should I call you 'Sir Izlude', then?"

"I..." he seems to become sadder, and I feel horrible...did I say something wrong? "I'm not a knight yet..."

"But you will be someday, right?" I smile encouragingly at him, and he seems to brighten up somewhat. He nods.

"My dream is to become a great knight like my father." He looks at me and fidgets slightly. "Do you have a dream like that too, Miss Reis?"

My smile is frozen. "I'll tell you later. Here, I'm going to write out the alphabet in modern and ancient Ivalician. You can read modern, right?"

He looks slighted. "Of course, Miss Reis! I mean...sorry for yelling...I do know how to read."

I can't help it. I start to giggle. "Don't worry about me so much!" I grab my pen and a piece of paper from my notebook, then I methodically write out each letter of the alphabet down. Izlude is so attentive, and he looks like and even has the mannerisms of Quain, and...

Suddenly, I feel like the me I used to be.

This is my link! This is what will reconcile my past and present selves so I don't have to be so confused anymore! This is the way I should be feeling, not just drifting but actually _alive_.

Even if Izlude isn't really one of my brothers...it's okay to pretend, isn't it?

Just for a little while...

-End to Ten-

I'm in a really bad mood...ah, never mind. Okay, so here's darling little Izlude...oh, how I like him. He won't be staying around for too long, but think of it this way: he's exceedingly important to how Reis will evolve. Considering this chapter, she needs it badly.

Reviewers!

Rift, thank you for your comments! Beowulf's a great character, isn't he? You don't mind my version of him? It's also nice to know that people actually read the whole 'next chapter spoiler' thing, especially since I was really wondering about that. Yes, you're completely right about it being Izlude. A winner is you!

Star Eevee, you're back! While I must say that you were completely wrong about assuming that the subtitle didn't refer to Izlude, I will say that you were right about why it wasn't a complete pun, what with the 'l' and 'e' being switched and the pronunciation being different. So, you're not a winner, but you're still right.  
After reading the rest of your review, I must say one thing: that was blush-worthy praise. I mean...man, I don't know how I'm going to live up to all that praise in the chapters ahead, but it definitely encourages me to try even harder than before--not like I wasn't trying hard before, but I digress. I can't wait to hear your opinions on the three longest chapters of this story, as well as this one and the ones ahead!

Mavina...do you read 8-Bit Theater? Just curious. But, I was really interested in the comment you made about 'if I were Reis, and Beowulf said that to me...'. Now, why? I mean, all things considered, he mistook who made the Riovanes Sweets out of good intentions. Reis had never told him that she could cook (and if she did, tell me so that I can change it), so how would he have known? It's kind of like expecting him to connect the dots without giving him dots to connect. As for Reis' past, SHE would like to know what happened...but the both of you aren't allowed to find out just yet. :P And, the Schwarzenegger doll...bwahaha! That's my new governor you're talking about!

Jaded Soul (should I include that 2? Gotta love new naming system...), thank you very much for your comments. If you find any glaring spelling or grammar errors (and I am very aware of the capitalization issues) please tell me. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to proofreading, but it's hard to catch everything. Like you, I don't normally read romance-centric stories for a multitude of reasons. The romance in this story is written so that I can actually read it later on, and I'm happy that you appreciate it. Please tell me if the quality ever drops, but I'll try my hardest to make sure that you'll never have to warn me.

If you have any comments or questions, please feel free to review or email me, whatever you like. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter...if not, tell me why not so I can improve! And thank you to all the readers who aren't planning to review, I'm happy enough that you've read this far!

Chapter 11: Galatea (_sculpting with my memories_): "With you here again, everything's okay...your big sister is always going to be with you from now on..."


	11. 11: Galatea

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Eleven: Galatea (_sculpting with my memories_)

-0-

Normally, I like sleeping for more than ten hours a night. I can function with less, but I prefer at least ten. Lately though, I'm lucky to snatch five hours, what with sewing and thinking up lessons.

After all, I have a very special student.

"Izlude, your penmanship is becoming very nice." I hold up his paper so that it's at eye level, carefully inspecting the way he wrote out the alphabet in ancient Ivalician. _Very_ nice. Looking over at him, I smile when I see his bashful expression lighten up into an unsure smile.

"You're...you're really sure, Miss Reis? I mean, the scholar who normally tutors me and my sister always says that my writing is deplorable compared to Meliadoul's..." He looks down at the table, his unruly bangs hiding most of his face from me. This is the second full day I've had in tutoring Izlude, and I've noticed that every time I praise him--because he's a very devoted student--he talks about how his sister has always been said to be better than he is.

It seems like...he's always been compared unfavorably to her all his life.

I can't stand that. He's...he's such a nice boy...

"Izlude." Slowly he raises his head at my voice, giving me a smile that feels like...like he's hiding his true feelings. I want to look away, but I force myself to keep my eyes on his false smile.

_--Reis, you don't have to smile for my sake_--

I understand why Beowulf said that...it's so painful to see someone hiding their true feelings. Someone that I really care about, even if I just met him... "Izlude, have you always been told this...that your sister is better than you?"

The false smile drops off his face as his dark eyes avoids my face in favor of the tabletop. "Because it's true. Meliadoul's already a knight, and she can wield a crossbow and a sword. She's going to be knighted as a Holy Knight in about a year, too. She's really smart, and really strong..." He takes a deep breath. "There's no way I could ever compare to her."

...That's horrible. He's only thirteen, and he truly believes this...

"Do your parents think this? Does your sister?" I can't help it. This has nothing to do with me, nothing at all, but...

He looks and acts too much like Quain that...that I have to know.

I have to know how my little brother would feel if he were in a situation like this.

"...Father always says that I'm not trying my hardest, that if I were really trying, I'd be as good as Meliadoul." I stare at him, shocked. How could a father say something like that to his child? "Mother, when she was alive..." Izlude smiles suddenly, his eyes full of sadness as he continues, "she would always tell me that I was just as good as Meliadoul. That I have the potential to be anything I want to be." He closes his eyes.

"But she's dead now, and no one tells me that anymore."

I look away.

I'm hurting him by being curious. I'm hurting myself by being curious.

It seems that I can't do anything good, but I still want to know.

Did Quain ever feel this way too? Papa and Mama never treated any of us different, never singled out one of us as being better than the others. But while Tyrei and I were more suited for the traditional hunter family lifestyle, Quain was...little brother Quain was such a nice boy.

Why would a parent ever raise a nice boy by telling him how inferior he is to his sibling?

"I'm sorry," I finally say. "It's because you resemble one of my brothers so much...I can't help but pry. I'm really sorry..."

"It's okay Miss Reis," Izlude says kindly. "You have brothers?"

I smile, trying to conjure up happier feelings. I am with my 'brother', after all. "Yes, two younger brothers who are two years younger than me. They're twins."

A true smile appears on Izlude's face. Good, maybe he's feeling a bit better. "Oh? Where are they?"

I don't know.

"Ah...they're not here with me right now..." I can't help but appreciate my skill at evasiveness. I guess that's to me as magic is to Beowulf...

He looks at me for a moment before his eyes widen. "Oh...I-I didn't mean to...I'm sorry!"

...What? "Sorry about what?"

His lower lip trembles. "They're dead, aren't--"

"No!" The scream bursts out of me, a sudden irrational fury rising in my chest. How can he say something like that? That's not...I don't know...

They're just missing. They're not...I don't know if my family...

They're just not here right now, that's all!

"I...I'm sorry for my stupid assumption...everyone tells me that I do that, but I didn't mean...I really didn't..." He lowers his head, and I can hear him sucking in air in that way people do when they're trying not to cry...

Did that feel good, Reis? I'm the one who started all of this, asking him personal questions and dragging the pain to the surface, and then I yell at him because I didn't like what he said.

I really am a horrible person, aren't I?

I reach out hesitantly, lightly touching his arm with my right hand. He looks up at me, no tears in his eyes but a deep redness about his whole face. "I'm sorry." Because it's all my fault in the first place. "It wasn't a stupid assumption at all. It's a realistic conclusion to reach, but I...I don't believe it. Not yet."

Not ever.

"Can you forgive me, Izlude?"

_--I'm really, really sorry Quain. Please don't be mad at me, okay?_--

"Of course, Miss Reis." He sniffles once, giving me a tense little smile. "That's the first time anyone's ever said something like that. Sometimes Meliadoul will apologize if she's wrong, but only if it's beyond a doubt." He blushes. "I think you're the nicest person I've ever met."

_--O-okay, big sister...I'm sorry too_--

I'm not nearly that nice. "You still have a lot of life left to live before you can say something like that." I remove my hand from his arm and turn in my seat, looking at Izlude's paper. "Since it seems that you've gotten the alphabet down, I'm going to test your reading now." I hand him a paper filled with different sentences in ancient script and he rewards me with a large smile.

"Okay, Miss Reis!"

_--I can do it, big sister!_--

I smile widely.

Yes...I'm sure you can, little brother.

-0-

I don't wake up when the first tendrils of light slither into my room. I never went to sleep last night, I went straight to my needle and thread.

Shakily, I continue sewing a yellow dress in the design of a female squire's uniform. The lantern beside me is dim, flickering in and out of existence.

My thumbs hurt, but they're wrapped so that I won't bleed on the fabric.

I don't want to see red right now.

-0-

A funny thing about sleep deprivation is the feeling of it. I'd like nothing more than to fall onto my bed and sleep for a day, but I'm also feeling more awake than ever. Kind of...jittery. A bit disturbing, but...I won't let myself miss out on teaching Izlude. He told me that he's leaving on Monday.

God, I wish he could stay with me longer...

I walk into the library, blinking rapidly. My eyes feel 'stuck'. I hope my dress isn't on backwards or something...something seems off. Probably just the lack of sleep affecting me...

"Oh, Reis, good morning." I turn and see Verden standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Verden." Funny, it feels like I haven't said that in a couple of days. "I haven't seen you since Wednesday, have I?"

He shakes his head. "No, I've been studying the new edicts and volumes brought to me from Murond. When you're done translating Saint Ajora's prophecies, I've got some more work for you."

I struggle to smile at that. How lucky I am... "Is that so...I...I haven't been working on translating lately, actually."

"May I ask why?" Verden approaches me, something shining in his light blue eyes, "Reis, is everything alright?"

I close my eyes...oh, drifting...open eyes... "Everything's wonderful. I've just been tutoring Izlude Tingel in ancient Ivalician."

Verden looks surprised. "Did his father approach you for that?"

"No, I offered Izlude the chance and he was very excited about it." I smile curiously at his continued astonishment...why is he looking at me like that? "Is that alright?"

Verden's look softens into something that isn't his normal serenity, something that doesn't set him away from the rest of the world. His hands reach up to my face, softly cupping it...his hands are so soft...

My heart is pounding so fast...what is he doing?

"Reis..." His voice is soft, just like his hands... "You would willingly tutor a boy you don't even know...that is admirable of you."

This feeling...I'm trying to ignore it, but...

"I don't know about 'admirable' or anything...I'm just doing this because I wanted to..."

His face is closing in on mine...what is this...

"It's as I first thought. Reis, you truly are a queen of angels, both in presence and beauty."

I...

"I truly doubt that...Verden...I..."

He moves back, his hands slowly leaving my face. "And in modesty as well. I will see you at my sermon tomorrow, Reis." His gaze lingers on my face for a moment longer before he turns and walks out of the library.

Slowly, I bring my hands up to my face. My heartbeat isn't as frantic as before, but now I'm completely awake. That...that...

That feeling...

I wanted to run.

I didn't like that at all. Those soft hands are nothing like Beowulf's, that voice even less so. Even if Verden is a friend like Beowulf...I don't like his touch.

God, I miss Beowulf...

Ah...that undid all the calmness that sewing brings to me. That state of not-thinking, that wondrous state of forgetting...

"Good morning, Miss Reis!"

I look down into Izlude's cheerful face. Seeing those warm brown eyes, even if they are the wrong color...it's still very nice. "Good morning, Izlude. You're early today." He usually doesn't come by until after lunchtime. Could something be wrong?

He fidgets slightly. "I just wanted to learn more today, because...because I can't do anything else while I'm here anyway."

...Okay. I walk over to my table, listening to the sound of his boots as they lightly tread on the floor behind me. We sit down in our respective chairs and I pause as I reach for my notepad.

_--because I can't do anything else while I'm here anyway_--

Now that I think about it, with all the pressure on Izlude to become a great knight, why is he able to spend as much time as he is on more intellectual pursuits? Even if he is traveling... "Um, Izlude...why can't you do anything else while you're here?"

He looks at me. "Well, Father wanted to stop by here for so many days so that he could talk to Sir Kadmus, but Sir Chiroseau told us that Sir Kadmus is in Zaland."

Talk to Beowulf? Is something wrong? "Beowulf...ah, Sir Kadmus?"

"...You just now said..." Izlude pauses, then blushes. "Miss Reis, are you...close to Sir Kadmus?"

Um...well...that is...define 'close'. "We're friends."

"...Oh." He looks down. "He must be a nice person, since you're friends with him."

...Did I say something wrong? "Just like you, Izlude," I smile and he wanly smiles back.

Just like Beowulf...but different.

Significantly different.

-0-

I stumble back to my room, yawning every few minutes. Oh...sleep would definitely be good tonight...I open my door, clumsily shutting it behind me, then I heavily collapse on my short but wide bed...

_Darkness..._

_It's always dark._

_Step by step, I wander through the darkness, unrelenting, never-ending..._

_This isn't so bad._

_There are worse things than walking alone and not seeing how truly alone I am._

_That's fine._

_"Reis!"_

_Hmm...? Is that Beowulf?_

_I turn and look up into deep red eyes. I can't see anything else but those eyes...that shade of red..._

_"Is this what you truly want? You would rather drown in the darkness than...than be with me? Am I really that bad?"_

_It's safer. You're going to leave me sooner or later anyway, so I might as well separate myself from you now._

_"No...it's not me, is it? It's you...it's because of you. I'm trying...I've tried so hard to get you to open up to me, but you just keep pushing me away."_

_That's...that's uncalled for..._

_The red disappears._

_Of course. I knew you would leave._

It's you...--

_Because of me...is it truly because of my attitude?_

_Either way, you left. Whether it's because of me or because of something unavoidable in the future...you're still going to leave, aren't you?_

_Aren't you?_

_"Reis?"_

_"Big sister?"_

_Tyrei...? Quain?_

_"Reis, you're mean now."_

_"Yeah, you don't...you're not our big sister. You're just--"_

_"--a shell. A pretty shell with nothing--"_

_"--nothing inside."_

_"Just like you wanted to be."_

_Their voices ring out simultaneously with the last sentence, and I am brought to my knees._

_What are you saying? I am Reis. I...I'm your big sister Reis...!_

_"No."_

_"Not anymore."_

_"You just look like her."_

_"We're going to find our real sister."_

_But I am--_

_Come back...! I want to tell you...I want to prove to you..._

_I am Reis._

_I am..._

_I..._

_Is all this...my fault...?_

_I can't see...where is everyone? I want to find you, I want to show you who I am!_

_It's dark. Unrelenting and all-encompassing dark._

_And I'm the only one here._

_Always...  
_  
My eyes snap open. The evening light splashes into my room from my window, pooling over my bed, over me with a silver sort of blue.

God. Thank God it's not completely dark.

I sit up unsteadily, my arms slowly wrapping themselves around my thin frame. I can't see why Beowulf would want to hold someone as slender as me in his arms...

_--I've tried so hard to get you to open up to me, but you just keep pushing me away_--

Stop that. Stop that stop that I don't want to think about it! Please, just leave me alone...!

Fumbling, I crawl off the edge of the bed...ah--! I grit my teeth and sit up on my knees, clutching at my right shoulder with my left hand. The pain, after the initial bloom, slowly withers into dull throbbing. I lean against the edge of my bed, face towards the ceiling, gulping in deep breaths of stale air.

_--You know, if you want to talk I'm right here. I'd like to hear what's going on in your mind_--

Blindly, I grope around for my needlework case, hands smacking against the stone floor uselessly.

_--We're friends here, after all_--

What am I thinking? Lantern...flasks of oil...

_--But...I think that you look beautiful, even with a glare on your face. You're really one of a kind_--

I spill some oil on my lap, but through the night's light I'm able to fill up the lantern.

_--We're compatible_--

The light from the trapped flame blinds my eyes when I hastily turn the lantern's knob. Instinctively I clench my eyes closed, bright spots inhabiting the darkness behind my eyelids.

_--I think that...you and I aren't as different as I thought at first...no, not at all_--

What do you know?

_--Trust me_--

You say all these things so easily...

_--Reis, if there's something you want to talk about, I'm right here. I'll always be here for you_--

But you...

_--You're not alone_--

You and your destructive kindness...with those words, the way you touch me...you almost make me believe that you won't disappear! You'll stay with me...I won't be alone anymore...

_--I'll see you later, Reis_--

But even if you can't help it, you'll still have to leave me anyway.

I don't want to think about this anymore.

Just let me forget...

-0-

The light is shining brightly in my room and my fingers hurt.

It's not dark anymore.

That's a good thing...

I can see...I can see my loneliness.

That's not a good thing...

I should...I should go out.

If I go out, I should change first.

Yes.

I should do that now...

-0-

Slowly I make my way to the front of the church. There are lots of people pouring out of the main area...the nave. Oh...is today Sunday? Verden has his sermons on Sunday. I must've missed it.

I don't want to see Verden right now.

I'll go to the library then. He won't be there all day. The library is a good place now. It's good because...

My head hurts. I think it's because I've slept two hours this whole weekend.

That's bad.

So are my dreams.

Oh, library door. Open...

Nobody's here...hmm...?

There's a boy at the back of the library. His back is to me...he's familiar, somehow.

That height, that brown hair...could it be...?

Quain?

Quain!

I run through the small library, roughly landing on my knees and throwing my arms around Quain's waist. I rest my forehead against his lower back and this is true happiness even if everything seems so muddled...

But that doesn't matter! This is Quain! Finally, finally...!

"I've missed you so much, Quain...so, so much..."

He's so warm. His heart is beating so fast. He must be so excited too!

"...Re-Miss Reis?"

He's always been so polite, even after such a long time... "I liked it better when you called me 'big sister', Quain. But I don't mind..."

He shuffles around a bit. "Miss Reis, I'm Izlude Tingel. Remember?"

... 'Izlude Tingel'?

...Oh, I see. After all, if Tyrei's not with him, that means that Quain must be the only one left. He's always been more dependent, so he had to have been adopted in order to survive.

That makes sense.

"It doesn't matter what your name is, you're still my little brother." I hold him closer to me. "But if you're more comfortable with the name 'Izlude', I don't mind calling you that."

"I...Miss Reis..." Quain's voice has a hint of something...something's off...

Leave me alone. I'm not going to have bad feelings get in the way of my reunion.

"With you here again, everything's okay...your big sister is always going to be with you from now on..." I raise my head. "We'll always be together, okay?"

Slowly, so slowly, he starts turning his head. I smile. That jawline...those cute rosy cheeks, those eyes...

Those eyes...

Those aren't the right eyes.

Quain's eyes are amber, but these eyes are dark brown.

No.

This isn't...

"...You're not Quain Dular at all, are you?"

Those eyes look so sad. "No, Miss Reis."

...God.

_No_.

Everything else is the same, so why aren't you...you could've been, but those eyes...

If I had slept last night, there's no way I would've been taken by such a perfect copy.

No, that's not it either.

It's been almost eight years. If this had really been Quain, he would've been nineteen.

Izlude looks like the Quain in my memories. Those memories that I've thrown back into the deepest recesses of my mind for nearly eight years, then pulled them out into the surface. The memories that I've tried to drown myself in, tried to bring back the me I used to be, bring everything into the present...

Oh God.

What have I been doing to myself?

My arms drop to my sides.

I don't want to think about this...I want to stop this...

That's the exact thing that brought me to this moment, isn't it? My way of thinking, avoiding those thoughts that threaten to disrupt my mind, my sense of harmony. Avoiding, pushing away, not thinking...

This is what I've done to myself.

"...Miss Reis?" I look up into Izlude's concerned face. Concern, even after I mistook him for a brother lingering in my memories...God.

"I'm sorry, Izlude, I--"

"I want to be your brother."

...What? "Izlude, I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

He shuffles around for a moment before a tentative smile slowly appears on his face. "Miss Reis, you're a nice person. Even if you say 'live out your life first before saying that', I still think you're the nicest person I've ever met. You...you always tell me that I'm really smart and that I do a good job, and it makes me feel really good. So I...I want to do something nice back."

I look away from his comforting smile. "Still, I completely disregarded who you are. I was completely convinced that you were my little brother Quain, even if the ages don't match up...I don't think that I'm worthy of your kindness."

"But you are!" Izlude yells. "I'm sorry, but everybody's worthy of kindness. Even if they're an enemy, they still deserve a chance. And you...you're definitely no enemy. You just don't see that you're a really nice person."

I mistake him for an afterimage of one of my brothers, and he doesn't even care. Who's the truly nice person here? "...And you don't realize that you're a really great person."

He blushes. "I don't know about that..."

We stare at each other for a long moment before we both start laughing. It's completely absurd, but I feel so light.

I feel good. I've completely ruined myself, but I feel good.

"Alright then." I smile as the laughter dies down. "I would be honored to have a brother like you."

"Really?" Izlude's eyes light up and my smile widens.

"Yes, but on one condition." I hold out my hand to him. "We both have to try our hardest to reach our dreams and become great people in our own minds."

I won't look backwards for my support. I won't depend on my memories and force myself in a world inhabited by only myself, but I won't try to forget, either. I'll follow my instincts and, even though it's uncomfortable, I'll keep myself open from now on.

I'll try, anyway.

His smaller hand grasps mine. "Did you ever tell me who you wanted to be like?" I shake my head. Such an innocent question has an innocent answer.

"I want to be like my mother." I smile slightly. "I've always admired her."

He nods, then looks away. "Um, Miss Reis?"

"Yes?"

A light redness blooms on his face. "Does this mean that...um, I'm closer to you than Sir Kadmus?"

My smile fades, but I try to bring it back. Judging by his look, it was successful.

Beowulf...

_--I've tried so hard to get you to open up to me, but you just keep pushing me away_--

Even if that was a dream, it's still true. I don't want to admit it, but it really is.

I'm so sorry, Beowulf...

-0-

Monday has come too soon for my liking.

Izlude stands at the entrance to the library, looking down at his feet. "...I had a lot of fun these past days, Miss Reis."

Biting my lower lip, I kneel down before him and smile up into his lowered face. "So did I, Izlude. You've taught me a lot, you know."

"I...you've taught me a lot too." He smiles down at me. "I mean, more than just ancient Ivalician letters, but...I'm going to make my promise come true. Because of you, I definitely think I can do it."

Hearing these words, I feel so useful. If someone like me can motivate another like this and vice-versa, then I can't imagine the influence of the nobility. But then again, do they influence through power, or by kindness? "Be safe, Izlude. Even if you're going to be a great knight, I don't want to hear any bad news about you before I can see you again."

He stands taller, squaring his shoulders and looking more like a man than a boy. "Can I write to you? I'll write in ancient script!"

I laugh. "That's fine. I'll do the same."

This is a different sort of goodbye. It doesn't seem like such a tormenting experience.

I'm absolutely sure that we'll be reunited again.

_--_tmptmptmp--

"Izlude, are you done? Father's getting irritated!"

We both turn to the door, myself standing up in the process, just as a girl completely covered from the neck down in a forest-green dress appears just beyond the entrance of the library. She's about medium height for a female, with chin-length dark brown hair and piercing dark eyes.

What an intimidating girl...

"Melia, this is Miss Reis. She's the kind lady who was teaching me how to read ancient script." Izlude turns to me, smiling widely. "Miss Reis, this is my older sister, Meliadoul. She's going to be one of the best Shrine Knights ever."

This girl...Meliadoul tilts her head slightly to the side, staring at him with what seems to be curiosity. "Hm...what do you mean by 'one of the best', Izlude?"

He gives me a sidelong glance, then smiles at his sister. "I'm going to become as good as Father, just like you!" Izlude gives me his full attention now, "Miss Reis, thank you. I hope to see you soon." He grins lopsidedly at me, then leaves the room. Meliadoul, a bemused sort of smile on her face as she watches her brother leave the room, turns to me.

"Thank you, Miss Reis. I'm sure my brother will be all the more stronger thanks to the knowledge you've imparted onto him." She bows. Wow, that's really formal. But somehow, that doesn't seem appropriate coming from her. I don't think she's the gentle sort.

I bow deeply to her. "Thank you for entrusting your brother to me, and I hope what you say comes to be." She nods slightly, then turns and walks away.

Once again, I'm alone in this library. But that...it doesn't seem quite so bad.

My new little brother, Izlude...I hope you can fulfill our promise. I'll try my best too, and when we see each other again, we can talk about these days...the days that opened up our true potential.

Stay alive until then, Izlude...

-0-

"Reis--!"

I wince. My ears can't take that sort of punishment...I turn around from my door and focus my attention to quite possibly the widest grin I've ever seen. "Peppermint...is something going on?"

She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet a few times, practically glowing with happiness. "They're back, Reis! The knights--our knights--are back!"

My eyes widen. Beowulf's back? "Since when?"

Clapping her hands together in front of her, she takes a deep breath. "Seems about thirty minutes ago." She gestures to her regulated white mage's robe. "I'm actually going to go change now and meet my boyfriend at our place." She sighs. "Almost a week...it's simply too long, don't you think?"

With all the things that happened, including my recent revelation about myself, I'm inclined to agree. "It's a long time, that's true."

She laughs. "If you don't show your happiness, your friend's going to think that you don't care!"

...Is that really true? I look down. "Do you really think so?"

"Well, maybe for most girls, but I think you show your feelings in a different way." Peppermint grins. "Anyway, I've got to get changed! Bye!" I watch as she prances down the hall to her room, so completely enveloped in her happiness.

I kind of wish I could do that...show my feelings more openly. Well, maybe not the jumping around and the yelling, but...

Well, that takes time. I'm going to find my own ways to express my feelings more openly, and with Beowulf...that's easy enough.

_--and meet my boyfriend at our place_--

I smile.

I guess I can start now, right?

-0-

I sit on the sill facing--more or less--Bariaus Hill, swinging my legs over the side of the wall. Night is approaching, coating the sky in dark, dark shades of blue. It's a beautiful evening and I'm...I'm happy that I can share this with someone.

This feeling, a nice warmness spreading from my chest to the rest of my body, is so relaxing.

_--_tmptmptmp--

Hm...I don't hear metal against stone, just regular boots. And I only know one person who walks like that... "Good evening, Beowulf."

"I thought you would be here." Pause. "Although it surprises me that I'm right."

I guess I deserve that, considering my confused state of before. "I had a feeling that you would come here." But I'm not surprised to see that I'm right.

He approaches quickly, and...what's this? A string of weird shapes is being dangled in front of my face. "As I promised, I brought back something for you," he says warmly.

Reaching up with my left hand, my fingers brush against Beowulf's hand. He places the string against my palm, his fingers lingering against mine even after I close my hand around the string. I inspect the strange figures on the string, the lack of light making my eyes strain. They sort of look like paper birds... "What is this?"

"Miss Koizumi, the daughter of the ambassador, made these paper cranes when I mentioned you. They're for good luck." His hand is gone from mine, but he sits right next to me while facing the opposite direction. He's in his regular uniform. "She called them 'orizuru'."

Orizuru...what an interesting word. I lower the orizuru to my lap, making sure not to crush them. I look over at him, taking in the details of his face. It feels like it's been a long time... "She didn't have to go through all the trouble of making these..."

He smiles, dark eyes colorless in the night, and I feel even warmer. "That's what I told her, but I didn't have any choice. I was in security meetings all week, and I didn't have time to go out and buy you something like I promised."

"I didn't really want you to buy me anything." I look down into my lap. Ah...I could add a bit more to that, can't I? He doesn't deserve my evasiveness, so I look up at him again. "As long as you came back, that was enough for me."

Beowulf looks at me a bit strangely. "How was your week?"

Where do I start? "It was...interesting."

"'Interesting'?"

"Emotionally draining," I clarify, and now he looks a bit worried "But I found out a lot about myself, and what I want, and..." I lower my gaze to the differently-shaded paper cranes on my lap. "And what I need."

"That sounds like a lot," Beowulf says softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

A strange sensation tickles my throat, but at the same time I can't help but smile. I don't understand these feelings. The emotions that Izlude arose in me were all feelings that I knew once, that warm, gentle kind of feeling from being around my family. But the feelings that Beowulf inspires in me...they're all so strange, and they're beyond me. Something that I don't think I could've admitted before is how much I've grown to really rely on these new feelings.

How much I've grown to rely on Beowulf.

Setting the string of cranes onto the sill, I swing my legs over the stone railing and push myself off, standing inside of the church. I look at Beowulf, and now I feel...bashful. "There is something you can do, Beowulf."

I usually don't like asking people for things, but...

He looks at me, smiling in that way that is so uniquely him. "Sure, what is it?"

...Well, alright. "Will you...um, will you hold me?"

I hear him exhale heavily. "You don't have to ask for something like that." He sounds happy and I start blushing. He stands and walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I return his embrace, my arms encircling his shoulders as I rest my head against the bottom of his scarf. His chin rests on the top of my head. "I missed you, Reis," he whispers, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on my back...ahh...

Closing my eyes, I lean into him and listen to the sound of his heartbeat. That steady rhythm...what a wonderful sound. "I missed you too, Beowulf."

I don't understand a lot of things, but I do know that we'll eventually have to separate. But that's fine.

There's always next time, and next time I won't ask.

-End to Eleven-

This was a hard chapter to write. I knew what I wanted to happen, but I only have five-line summaries of each chapter, so I wasn't sure what exactly to write. I hope it doesn't seem rushed, since my computer had to be euthanized on Friday and I spent most of Saturday fixing him up. I sincerely hope that it bonds well with the rest of the chapters.

Let's play the 'Chain of Events' game! At thirteen--give or take a week--Izlude learns how to read and write ancient Ivalician. Five years or so later, Izlude is sent to Orbonne Monastery to find a book written completely in ancient script...

If I remember correctly, Meliadoul's inherent abilities include 'Equip Crossbow' and 'Equip Spear', hence the reference.

Reviewers!

Rift, yeah, I tried to make it fairly obvious that Izlude was showing up while trying to not be blatant about it. Well, please tell me what you think about my characterization of Izlude!

Luna Crescent, I feared I wouldn't be seeing you for awhile. ; Considering you've been reviewing my stories since Shiawasena--late 2001, in other words--I'd think that your reviews would mean that much more because you know my style and all. You're a junior in high school...I'm really surprised. I thought you were my age, or roundabouts there, and since I'm in college I just figured you would be too. Oh, now about your review...well, you can judge for yourself what kind of influence Izlude had on Reis, and vice-versa. Personally, all it means is that Reis won't self-angst automatically...well, less than usual. Oh, and what it offers for the growing relationship between Beowulf and Reis...this is going to be even more fun!

And Arreat's Hymn has devolved back to Mavina...I seriously don't understand why likes picking on you so much. I'm sure it really loves you. Well, this is me being hard on Reis...it's not that bad, is it? And, I don't think it's sweetness that Reis has so much as self-pity and the ability to withdraw into herself...I honestly can't say if her way or your way is better, but yours is probably more healthy. Now, I have to ask this because you say it fairly often in your reviews, but what is 'Soa'? Curious minds want to know! I'll let you know how Arnold's doing, but he doesn't even take office until November 15th or so, but when he does I'm sure things will get more interesting down here...hopefully in a good way...

Star Eevee, I received your review just as I was about to check this chapter on preview...it's a good thing I check my email first. Y'know, considering that my Ramza's going around as an uber-squire with Two Swords--two Excaliburs, Elemental, Hamedo with 97 Brave and some other good stuff at only 21 years old, then Reis' father can skin a King Behemoth and various monsters can be served as delicacies. Food and clothing are lucrative businesses in Ivalice, apparently.  
I like to think that it's my duty as a fanfiction writer to stay true to the story while expanding the characters' personalities. I have nothing but the utmost respect for the game creators...just not for the game translators. Don't worry so much about not getting the word 'pun', I just love having quirky subtitles. Heh, I still love chapter 7's the most. But anyway, about Beowulf...it's hard writing him because I have to adhere to the personality set by the game--and I thank the goddess that I can read enough Japanese to get a better idea of his personality--while making him realistic and, more importantly, not whipped. ; If you're like Beowulf, then I'd think that you'd be like Mustadio, too. Ah...I find it ironic that anyone would ever find this to be such a great romance, considering that I've been told multiple times that I'm as romantic as a rock! Anyway, if I get the chance to--and I just bought Disgaea and FFX so I'm not so sure--I'll read your story, okay?

Thank you for reading! If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to review! Reviewers and non-reviewers alike, you're both totally cool in my eyes!

Chapter 12: Monster Talk (_the talent that's not_): 'I watch the carnage before me, feeling more than a little dumbfounded. I know that Beowulf's staring at me with what can only be described as astonishment, and I don't really want to see his expression. I mean, this is...it's kind of ridiculous. I can only imagine how this event could be recorded...

'Reis Dular, the woman who wielded a chocobo in battle.''


	12. 12: Monster Talk

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Twelve: Monster Talk (_the talent that's not_)

-0-

"See, what I've never understood is why men cheat on beautiful women."

I'm in the church kitchen making sandwiches with Peppermint. It's ten right now, and at eleven I'm to meet Beowulf at the southern town gate leading to Bariaus Valley for a picnic. Not all day, though; Beowulf has to patrol at seven tonight. I've been spending a lot of time with Peppermint lately because our schedules have been coinciding. I was right in initially thinking that she was a nice person, and she really makes me think about things that just a week ago wouldn't have gotten through my haze.

I pause in cutting a recently baked loaf of bread into slices. "What does that mean, 'cheat'?"

Standing on my right, Peppermint looks at me, both eyebrows raised. "Every time you ask me what something I've said means, I feel like I'm corrupting you."

"I don't know about that." I resume in slicing the loaf, "I feel so behind everyone else...I didn't even know what a date was until just before I went on my first one."

"Ah...still...oh, whatever." She starts chopping up a head of lettuce. "If someone cheats on you, that means that they're going out with someone else behind your back, maybe even doing more."

The logic of that definition seems so...harsh. "But...I go out with you a lot. Does that mean that I'm cheating on...ah, my friend?"

She puts down her knife and stares at me. "No, no, that's totally different. See, we're just friends. It's not like we're going to the local inn and doing inappropriate things with each other. It's one thing to go out with a friend and another to go out with someone you'd like to be a lover to."

... 'Inappropriate things'? "What are inappropriate things to do with someone?"

"Ah...I didn't know she was that innocent..." I hear her mutter. Am I asking too many questions? Somehow, I think it's better to ask her than, say, Beowulf. Something tells me Peppermint would be more straightforward about this sort of thing. "When I say 'inappropriate things', I mean things that you wouldn't do around other people. Private sort of things."

"...Like hold hands?" Of course, any sort of touching is pretty private, I think. But inappropriate? If they were bad things, then why does it feel so natural to do them?

A strange look crosses over Peppermint's face. "I think that just goes for us, since we're seeing knights and all. But, I mean things like kissing and touching...basically, any sort of sexual contact."

...? "What does that mean?"

She gives me a blank look. "What?"

"'Sexual contact', I mean. I've never heard of a modifier like that before." As soon as I say that, she really starts staring at me. "Am I asking really stupid questions?"

"God no, you aren't." She vehemently shakes her head. "'Sexual contact' is anything sort of touching that has a more, ah...lustful intent behind it. Basically, the type of touching the Church says that people shouldn't indulge in unless they're married."

I turn to finish off the rest of the loaf before returning my full attention to her. This is really interesting... "I don't remember that, but then again I used to skip a lot of sermons."

She begins laughing. "That's probably a good thing! Here, let's finish these sandwiches first."

We spend the next fifteen minutes making chocobo sandwiches with ingredients bought on an early morning trip through the shopping area, then slicing them into wedges--Peppermint's idea for more convenient packaging into my new woven basket. I received a raise a week ago, so I was happy to spend it. I want to go on lots of picnics with Beowulf.

Lately, our relationship has been really...I don't know. I'm having more fun, even moreso than before. I've been trying really hard to open up to him, and his response to that has been so wonderful.

He's such a wonderful person...

I slice the last sandwich diagonally and place it into the basket. "Alright, tell me what 'lustful' means first." I turn to her eagerly and she laughs.

"Someone wants to learn, hm?" She grins. "Well, it's that whole feeling you get when, you know, you're around someone you like or love and you want to touch them. Or if you're kissing or something and you want to go further..." She waves her hand. "Stuff like that."

I finally have a name for that feeling... "I understand. We're like that a lot, I guess."

Peppermint, who was in the process of gathering up all the knives for washing, quickly turns her head and stares at me for a moment, then begins laughing. "Are you sure you even need to me help define things for you?"

...Did I say something funny? I want to laugh too, even if it's at myself... "Well, everything's so new to me. It's all very interesting."

"Ah..." Hand over her mouth, she stifles her laughter. "Well then, consider me your big sister when it comes to matters like this. What do you want to know?"

I smile. I've never had a big sister...I was the big sister. "Um, about the phrase you used... 'sexual contact'..."

She nods sagely. "Ah, sex." Hm, sounds like a noun...one syllable...sounds kind of powerful for a word. "Stay with me until the bells ring, and I'll teach you everything you need to know about that word."

'Everything'? That sounds like a lot, but it does sound tempting... "Please tell me everything you think I need to know," I say cheerfully. I've always liked learning new and different things.

"Hmm..." She smiles widely, and I swear her dark brown eyes just glinted in this well-lighted room. "It's too bad that we didn't buy any cucumbers this morning, but let's use a more knight-oriented analogy..."

-0-

I quickly walk out of the church, basket in hand. Looking up at the clock tower above me, I see that it's already ten past eleven...I'd better hurry. I hope Beowulf's not worried, but the things that Peppermint told me were simply...fascinating. All about feelings and movements and their correlation with love--because she said that it was vitally important to have love as a prerequisite before doing anything as emotionally bonding as that--and other things. She also warned me about the possibility of pregnancy because of some 'monthly occurrence', but I didn't have the heart to ask her what that was.

Well, I guess I can't expect to learn everything in thirty or so minutes. I do seem to remember something Mama said once about this subject

_--Reis, darling, men and women are designed by God to fit together perfectly_--

and maybe that's all I really need to know. Everything else beyond that seems so complicated. Maybe that's what it's like to be human? After all, I don't think that monsters have half the socialization problems we do.

I step onto the main street...now, did he say to meet him at the gate, or...oh. There he is, talking to a vendor...hm, he's in his uniform already? I walk over to the booth, waiting until after Beowulf makes his purchase of what appears to be an apple covered with light-brown stuff, all on a stick. I sniff...oh, it's a sweet. Eh. "Good morning, Beowulf. I'm sorry if I'm late."

He turns to me, smiling in his usual way--I think Peppermint would call this 'charming'--then his eyes widen. "That's a cute outfit...female squire and...ninja, right?"

I'm beaming but I don't feel like hiding my face. He is, as usual, completely correct. In addition to the yellow squire's dress I had made about a week or so ago, I have on ninja tights and boots. I didn't have to make either of the ninja items; there was a clothing vendor here all last week with so many articles of clothing I had never seen before...there are so many jobs out there. I also had bought a black length of cloth, which I've woven into my low braid today. "Yes, exactly. What's that?" I point with my right hand at that...sweet apple confection he just bought.

"Oh, this? It's a caramel-coated apple. It's the perfect time of year to have one, what with how hot it's getting." We start walking out of the town when he suddenly turns to me. "You didn't want one, right?"

I shake my head. "You know I can't stand sweets."

"I know." He shrugs and takes a bite of the smothered apple. "Anyway, you didn't make too much for lunch, did you? I was starting to get worried."

"No, I was just...talking with Peppermint and lost track of time." I think 'talk' sounds better than 'learning from'. Beowulf's not an overly curious person, but he can wait me out if he wanted to. "Sorry about that, again."

He takes another bite. "Ah, girl talk. I remember Sis gathering up all the neighborhood girls and talking for hours in her room." He pauses, his eyes getting a faraway sort of look. "I've overheard some of the strangest things."

I guess that would depend on what is 'strange' to talk about. "Sounds like fun."

"More like intimidating." With a loud crunch, he takes another bite of his apple. "I spent most of my time around Sis, and all her friends loved to surround me and do weird things to me."

'Weird things'? "What sort of weird things?"

His cheeks color slightly. "Before Sis became a young woman, she...they would pretend that I was a life-sized doll."

'Doll'? I know what that is, but I've never owned one so I don't understand. "What do young girls do with dolls?"

"...Well..." Now his ears are darkening. "They like to dress them up in frilly, poofy things...regardless of their doll's gender."

I turn to him, taking in his completely masculine features. That jawline, his well-toned body...I smile up at him. "You must've been a very cute child."

He looks at me, the redness fading from his cheeks. "Cute or not, I didn't like it at all," he pauses, "somehow, I knew you wouldn't laugh."

Why would I laugh? All things considered, it seemed as if he didn't want to talk about it. "If you didn't like being around your sister and her friends, why didn't you just stay around your parents?"

Quickly his face goes blank and he looks forward, taking a slow bite out of his nearly-finished apple. "Well..."

I lower my head. I asked something I shouldn't have, it seems. God, what should I do...? Ah, I know. I take his hand and gesture with the basket in my left hand out past Beowulf's side of the path. "Let's go sit down over there." I smile at him when he looks at me, and a small smile--not his usual one, but I'll take what I can get--appears on his face.

He nods and tosses the apple core and stick aside and we walk off the path and into a small patch of grass and trees. We sit down underneath a small apple tree, and I place the basket between us and open it. "Oh, sandwiches." Beowulf takes one of the wedges. "These aren't chicken, are they?"

What's 'chicken'? "No, these are chocobo sandwiches. Yellow chocobo." I take one and bite into it. The lettuce, tomato, chocobo and honey-based spread mix together in a wonderful combination. He takes a bite and I watch his expression turn from mild curiosity into general pleasure. "What is a chicken?"

"Oh, a chicken is a type of bird. It's a lot smaller than a chocobo." He takes another bite. "This is really good."

I beam. "Are you allergic to this 'chicken'?" I better make note of it for future meals.

"Well, I've never eaten one." He finishes off the sandwich and grabs another one. "It's like this: Temple Knights have this spell called 'Chicken' which can make someone lose most of their bravery and, in many cases, will transform someone into a chicken," he starts on his new sandwich and finishes it quickly before looking at me again, "I've seen it happen, and sometimes it was because I was the cause of it, so it's always been a fear of mine to eat chicken anything because I don't know if it had always been a chicken...or one of my victims."

...Well, suddenly I'm not that hungry. "That's pretty morbid, don't you think?"

"Well, yes." He starts on his third wedge and I remember that I'm still on my first, so I finish it off and reach for another one. "A lot of my spells are like that. Once I had to protect a noble for a fortnight, and he kept a lot of statues of both humans and monsters..." He shakes his head while swallowing the rest of his sandwich. "I thought I recognized one of the human statues as an enemy knight that I had petrified when I first became a Temple Knight."

"I...see." I take a third wedge as he finishes his fourth and I can't help but wonder if I even made enough, especially with the way he's eating today. "Your job must be...depressing."

He pauses in mid-bite. "It's not so bad now, since I'm not being sent to hunt down heretics while Examiner Draclau is out in the war." The wedge disappears into his mouth. "Even if there's more work, I like that better than hunting down people who just have a different ideology than the Church. If they're dangerous to society that's one thing, but..."

As a cataloguer, I've never ventured into understanding anything to do with knights and their service, other than occasionally listening in to their stories. Temple Knights are the hardest to learn about anyway because there's so few of them and they're always on secret missions and such. Divine Knights are more openly lauded than Temple Knights, even though they have equal ranking...well, other than the fact that a Divine Knight is the leader of the entire Murond military sect.

...Humans really do make things confusing for themselves.

I sigh, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "How old were you when you became a Temple Knight?"

"Twenty-four, give or take a month." His eating slows and I have a sudden hope that I might actually have five sandwich wedges before he finishes off the basket. "When did you become a head cataloguer?"

Ah, he remembered my full title. "At sixteen," I wonder if I've kept that title in Murond even though I've been in Lionel for nearly three months now. Beowulf smiles at me.

"That's a young age, especially for an intellectual job like that." Oh, hardly. Tedious is the better word. "You must have a love for books."

Yes, good ones. "I don't read very much. My job was filing away theological tomes, and that sort of subject bores me a lot..." Somehow, I don't think that telling a Temple Knight something as heretical as how much I dislike religious books is a really smart thing to do, even though I'm not so sure if he's religious.

He starts laughing. "It sounds like it, but I bet they're not as bad as magical theory books."

"You'd be surprised." I quickly eat the rest of my sandwich and swallow before continuing. "All those books on Ajora and analysis on every word he was said to have spoken...I've never understood all the focus on such a questionable saint."

...Maybe that went too far.

Beowulf takes another sandwich. "Never mind if he was a saint or not, because I doubt it, but you've got to wonder about Church practices nowadays. It's sad to see so many people in the Glabados faith, all of whom don't even understand the Church's true agenda."

...Was I right? "You...aren't mad about what I just said...?"

"God, no," he says as he smiles warmly. "In fact, I'm glad you said it. You didn't seem like someone who was really religious, but I didn't want to say anything bad about the Church and offend you or something."

Okay, this is still weird somehow. "But, as a Temple Knight...aren't you supposed to completely believe in the preachings of the Church?"

"My job is to protect the Church from 'heretics', or whatever the Church deems a heretic, but my job isn't who I am." He looks at me curiously. "If that was true, we both wouldn't be doing this."

I raise my knees up and place my arms across them, resting my head on my makeshift cushion while looking over at Beowulf. "I don't understand that rule, the one about knights and white mages being separate. There was no such rule in Murond...and why does it include me as well?"

I know some famous stories about couples in the Church as giggled about by the young white mages in Murond. There's one about how former Holy Knight Draclau met his white mage wife, now deceased, while in southern Lionel. How a lowly Knight Blade met his wife, a cataloguer, while looking for a book in one of Murond's bookrooms. That Knight Blade is now a Divine Knight, and his name is Vormav Tingel.

_--But she's dead now, and no one tells me that anymore_--

That is what Izlude had said...maybe they have that rule here because of the wife's tendency to die? But if heretic examiner Draclau is the leader of Lionel province, wouldn't it be hypocritical for him to deny to others what he himself has done?

"...That rule had never really been enforced until Examiner Draclau left," Beowulf says slowly, moving the basket to his other side. It's just as well, I've lost my appetite. "That's when Buremonda announced the rule to the white mages and made me do the same."

Why would Verden act in such a way, though? "What are you going to do about it now?"

"Reis..." Scooting up to me, he puts an arm around my shoulders and gazes into my eyes. I raise my head and return his gaze, our faces separated by a scant distance. "As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter to me. I want to be with you, and he can't do anything to me anyway." He reaches with his other hand and softly grasps the overhanging lock of hair on that side, his knuckles gently against my cheek. "I don't think that he would do anything to you, either."

But...what about Peppermint? "What if it was one of the knights under your command?"

His touch trickles down the side of my face, my hair being lightly tugged in the process. I close my eyes, relishing the two-fold feeling even as I worry about my only girl friend. "I'm no hypocrite." And I believe him because his lips are now on mine and I wouldn't let anyone of questionable morals touch me, not to talk of doing something like this to me.

At first it's a tentative touch, a simple pressing together of our lips, then we slowly draw back, the touch still faintly lingering. Once again we kiss, deeper this time before I pull away slightly, inwardly giggling as he continues to follow my lips for a moment before stopping. I part my lips at the same time he does, our breaths mingling in the imperceptible space between our mouths.

Lowering my knees, I reach out with my hands just as his hold on me tightens, my arms encircling his waist. I want to get closer to him but I can't, not with my lower body as it is. While trying not to break my nearly nonexistent contact with his lips, I scoot up onto my knees and lean into him, my chest against his. We kiss again, open-mouthed, and it isn't long before the tips of our tongues touch. This isn't new--not exactly--but it's different because right now it's a very deliberate movement. Slowly I let my tongue glide along his, raising my hands up along his back as his knuckles resume trickling up and down the side of my face.

There's an odd urge tickling my lower belly to do more, but I ignore it. I want to savor each moment as it is...

The hand slowly running down the length of my hair now has fingers softly touching my bare shoulder. There is the rough skin of his palm on my shoulder, drifting along my arm for a bit before moving across my back. I can feel him fiddling with the end of my braid with that hand, then with both hands. I want to stop him--it took about ten minutes and three tries before I could weave my strip of cloth into my braid--but then the cloth loosens, my hair bursts out of the braid and I quickly exhale through my nose because that felt kind of good.

That sense of being freed...I like it.

His fingers entangle themselves into my shoulder-blade length hair and I disengage from the kiss, smiling close-lipped against his mouth. I feel his lips curve against mine, and it makes me feel strangely happy. Languidly I move my hands over his stomach, then up to his shoulders and around his neck, letting my fingers roam up into his hair.

As we hesitantly move our faces away, he mumbles something that...did he just say what I think he said? "Beowulf?" I say questioningly, my tongue not used to the movements of talking right now. My eyes are wide open, taking in his closed eyes, his small smile...he looks so peaceful. A strange sort of envy rises in me.

I want to share that peace, too.

"Reis." His voice is lower than usual, his lips darker than normal. "Ever since I met you, I've always had this feeling of wanting to get closer to you, wanting to know you. I know that there's a lot of things that you can't tell me right now, but I want you to know that I will always be here for you. I want you to know..." He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, brilliant brandy shining right at me.

"I love you."

...Yes, that was what he said the first time. But...um...I don't know...what do I say...?

Do I love him? Do I love Beowulf?

I...I really, really, really like him, but love is two letters too different to be the same feeling, so...

...Oh, God, if you've ever loved me, please, please help me...

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

...God is pretty expedient today.

Beowulf quickly lets go of me and stands up, moving slightly in front of me. My eyes travel past his now-tense frame to the figures of four men, dressed in filthy green jackets and beige pants. Judging by the unity of their clothes, they have a specific job class, but...I'm not familiar with it. They're all brandishing daggers and...oh God, Beowulf isn't armed. He's never armed when we go out...

"Well, okay you two, all your valuables on the ground now." A lanky man with dark hair and a boyish face steps forward from his comrades, closing in on us. By his swagger, I'd guess that he's done this a lot... "Hm? Well, aren't you a pretty one?"

Why is he eyeing me like that...?

"Perhaps you should pay more attention to your opponent," Beowulf says mildly, and I stand as these strange men move their attention to him.

The lanky one, the only one with dark hair, smiles thinly. "We would, if Sir Knight was actually armed." He starts towards us, holding out his dagger in an offensive manner. "Heard the Ordalians in Zeltennia'll give a nice price for new girls. Hopefully she's undamaged goods--"

A bright light violates my eyes and I quickly shield my eyes with my left forearm. Loud screaming pierces through my ears, and my sight is easily forgotten in favor of my hearing. With hands tightly clamped over my ears, I open my eyes hesitantly and the first thing I see is the lanky man on the ground, rolling around frantically as flames hungrily lap at his body.

This shrieking is horrible...it hurts...

"I won't repeat myself," Beowulf says lowly through the horrid screaming. "Don't touch her."

I can only thank God that his back is to me. His face isn't the type that can contort into something crumpled and ugly, but...

His eyes must be the color of fresh blood right now.

"Reis," he says gently, not turning around to face me, "please go back to the town. Find Chiroseau as quickly as possible."

I can't just leave you! Four--well, more like three and a half--against one isn't fair at all! "Beo--"

"Please." And even as he says that his outstretched hand has a flaring yellow light emitting from it. The men, including the charred one who has managed to stand up again, start moving towards him and it's not fair at all but...

I start running towards the town, my feet tearing through the grass. My new boots are pinching my feet even through the tights and I hear the crack of thunder even though there's not a cloud in the sky...

"Wark."

(_Pathetic_)

I stop and spin around, completely startled. I just heard a chocobo...right?

"Wa-wark."

(_Leaving your mate like that...humans are truly sad_)

From a dense thicket on the other side of the path a red chocobo emerges, slowly trotting towards me. It ruffles out its tail feathers as it reaches within petting distance, large blue eyes curiously staring at me. "He asked me to," I tell it, and it steps back as if startled.

"...Wa-wark?"

(_A human that can understand monsters?_)

It's not exactly a rare skill. Most hunter-families specialize in it. All mediators have to learn it. "If all you're going to do is insult me, I'll like to get going now."

"Wark-waark."

(_I'm just saying what I see. Don't judge me by your standards, human_)

Something about that tone, and this situation, and how I have nothing to contribute other than finding the useful people and rude chocobos... "Then don't presume to judge me by yours!"

Ah...something hurts in my chest...

The chocobo steps back, fear in its eyes. "Wa-wa-waark!"

(_I didn't...I couldn't tell...forgive me!_)

...That's different. "I will if you fight on my behalf," I'm surprised and I can't remember anything Papa said about chocobos, but it's worth a try.

It hesitates for a moment before lowering its head. "Wark."

(_Get on_)

I do so quickly, clutching soft neck feathers in surprise as it races back toward Beowulf and the attackers. "Wa-wark?"

(_All but the black-clothed one?_)

"Exactly!" I watch as Beowulf quickly sidesteps a swipe to his abdomen, streaks of blue flickering at his fingertips before a good-sized chunk of ice narrowly misses his enemy, "Faster!"

"Wark!"

(_Get off then!_)

I can't argue with that. Leaning to the right, I fling myself off the chocobo and smash into the ground, rolling to a stop. Ah...I sit up, legs splayed awkwardly and my entire right side throbbing fiercely. I look over at the fight just in time to catch the red chocobo slam its beak into the side of the man that Beowulf had burnt. The man falls with a wail, going completely motionless. The surprise on Beowulf's face is evident as he avoids a badly choreographed two-pronged attack, stumbling away from the fray as the chocobo takes over.

Sore but otherwise fine, I walk over to Beowulf and watch the battle...hn. That's too nice of a word for this. With an untranslatable term, the chocobo raises a wing and waves it down. Something with the same magical tint as Beowulf and Peppermint's magic crunches into the back of a short-haired blonde's head, and he cries out and falls face-first into the ground. Smoothly the giant bird spins around and pecks into the lower body of one of the two other men, who had his dagger upraised over the chocobo's head before it sensed him. He doubles over, holding himself as he falls.

...I'm starting to see why red chocobos are practically inedible.

I watch the carnage before me, feeling more than a little dumbfounded. I know that Beowulf's staring at me with what can only be described as astonishment, and I don't really want to see his expression. I mean, this is...it's kind of ridiculous. I can only imagine how this event could be recorded...

'Reis Dular, the woman who wielded a chocobo in battle.'

Finally the last man is down. The chocobo proudly struts through the bodies of the attackers it felled, curiously peering at me after a while. "Wa-warkweh?"

(_Is that satisfactory?_)

I bow shortly, warily glancing at the bruised and bleeding bodies scattered on the ground. "Yes, very much so. Are they still alive?"

"Wark?"

(_Does that matter?_)

Eh... "We don't kill unless it's necessary," I state, wondering why I'm even trying.

"Kweh. Warkweh."

(_You mean -you- don't. Lots of monsters have moved northward because of the food just scattered across the ground_)

The war, I see... "Thank you for your help."

It stares at me for a moment longer. "Kwark," it mutters before walking towards the path, and I fight a nearly unsuppressable urge to run after it and ask what it meant.

(_It's not because I wanted to help a human that I went_)

"Um..." I turn around to face a very confused Beowulf. "What was all that about?"

Honesty, Reis, honesty. "I wanted to help you, and it approached me. I don't know why it helped me, but..."

It was intimidated by me. That's why it helped. How do I explain _that_, though?

"Thank you, Reis..." he trails off, "but I didn't want to kill them." He gestures over their fallen bodies just as a crystal appears over one of them. Anyone who submits themselves to the especial magic of job classes will have their bodies completely changed, I've heard, so that on death the magic used to change a body will crystalize, freed from the organic impurities.

Seeing these people die before my eyes...somehow, somehow...

_--Run...ev'ryone..._--

Didn't they deserve it...?

I turn away. After a long moment, Beowulf takes my hand and leads me away from this place with the charred grass and shining crystals, pausing only to pick up my basket lying nearby.

We walk towards the plain yellowstone gate that houses Lionel Castle without a word. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him glancing at me every once in a while. He's worried. It seems like I always worry him, but I don't know how to adequately react.

Even while watching those men die...it was like this.

Something about it all makes my insides tremble.

The faintest touch of a memory...

_--Run...ev'ryone..._--

...I don't know what it is, though.

I should try to remember, but I'm scared to. It's scary. It's hard to change that part of me to be more receptive about memories I can't remember because...

I'm afraid of what that memory will tell me about myself.

"Reis, we're here." I look up. Why are we at the barracks? I give Beowulf a questioning look. He looks really serious and that gets to me because he rarely ever aims that particular expression at me. "I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

...Somehow, I don't think that I really have much of a choice. "Of course."

He opens the door, waiting for me to walk through before entering. I hear the creak of the door as it closes. Ah, back into the behemoth's den. It's bright and nearly aired out in here, something to thank the longer summer days and opened windows for.

"Are you feeling alright? You can sit down at that bunk over there if you want." I hear the crinkle of my straw basket being placed on the ground, then he comes up behind me and points to the two-tiered bed on the far left-hand side of the room, just before the narrow corridor.

I shake my head. "I'm fine." Not really. "What did you want to talk about?" Two subjects come up into my mind, and neither of them are ones I really want to broach.

"Are you sure you're not feeling sick?" Beowulf walks up in front of me and touches me lightly with his fingertips along the sides of my jaw, gently raising my face to look up at him, "I was, the first time I saw a person die."

Hm. "When was that?"

"I was twelve." His eyes are searching my face, but I don't know what he's expecting. As it is, I'm not altogether shocked or anything. "Why?"

Well... "I was two. It was a red panther."

His eyes widen. "Huh...but you know, animals and humans are different."

"...Really?" I look to the side, into the bright light of an open window. "I was always under the impression that humans are animals."

"Is that so?" Beowulf tries to catch my gaze, and I let him because I'm just tired right now. "I think you're right, but...it's not that straightforward, is it?"

Is life ever? "Probably not."

"Well..." Now he looks really hesitant. "Speaking of straightforward...what were you going to say before those men arrived?"

...I was quite content in being too stunned to say anything. However...that's probably not what he wants to hear. What he wants to hear and my true feelings...they're similar but I just can't wrap my voice around those words and expel them into the air for him to hear.

_--I love you_--

I open my mouth slightly, trying to force my voice out...say something, anything...

"I...um...I..."

Why...why isn't anything coming out...?

"Reis..." A small, delicate smile is on his face. It hurts to see it...where is his normal smile? That wide smile of fun and happiness and... "Don't worry about it. Don't force yourself to say something you don't mean."

I ruined his smile, didn't I? Because of my inability to understand my own feelings, because...

It's easier to talk to monsters, I swear. All of this is so frustrating...!

"That's not it, Beowulf," I struggle to push the words out as he starts removing his hands from my face, and I think I startled him because he freezes and looks into my eyes inquiringly. I reach up and clutch his upper arms, the material rough against my hands. If only it were his skin... "I really, really, _really_ like you, more than anyone else

_of those who are presently around_

and I can say that because it's completely true, so don't...don't..."

Don't do that 'I'm so nice that I won't force you to say anything you don't want to because I can wait you out even though it's hurting me and hurting you until you say something first...'

Maybe I do understand you, just a little.

He looks deep into my eyes, fingers dragging upward on my face until the tips are on my cheekbones, then he starts chuckling. "That's a lot of 'reallys'." He quickly kisses my forehead before returning to gazing into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I wanted you to know how I felt about you and I wanted to hear the same thing from you. It didn't really occur to me it's harder for you because of everything that's happened to you."

I smile. "You do understand..."

"I'm trying." The smile on his face is _his_ smile, which makes me feel so happy. "I want you to know that I'm here for you. If you ever need to talk, no matter what it's about, please come to me."

I'll definitely take him up on that offer someday, but now's not the time. "I will, Beowulf."

I don't know who initiates this kiss, whether it's because my hands are moving over his shoulders and pulling him to me or because he's already leaning in, but our lips just happen to meet. It's a sweet embrace, slow and affectionate and melting into a new type of kiss...well, every kiss is new to me, even after over a month. It's like there's an infinite amount of kisses, and even if I spent a lifetime with him I'd never discover all the ways to incorporate lip, tongue and hand movements.

...Well, I certainly hope not, anyway.

The door opens, creaking loudly. Of course. I don't recall asking for divine intervention this time, though. I move away from him and turn to face the doorway. Men start pouring into the barracks, many of them giving me curious looks. I lower my head, and it's only because of Beowulf's hands on my shoulders that I don't just leave.

Other than the looks, which I can understand, they're acting as if I should be expected here.

"Hey...who's the bird with Sir Kadmus?"

"Better watch what you call her. That's Miss Reis, the Murond cataloguer and his girlfriend."

"Oh. Damn. I'd break the rules for her too."

...Well, most of them. Slowly the heat spreads through my face. There's no one in my way...I can run right now...

Chiroseau enters the room with a young dark-haired knight in tow. Oh, it's the knight that got Chiroseau for me that day I delivered mail, the one from the Eastern Lands. Chiroseau looks at me, not looking pleased at all. He walks up to me and Beowulf, nodding slightly at me. "Kadmus, we have a problem."

Beowulf's hands tighten on my shoulders. "What sort of problem?" he asks quietly.

"The kind of problem..." Chiroseau pauses, then looks at me pointedly. "The kind of problem that could affect you."

"Fine, meet me in my office, I'm going to walk Reis out." I take this as my hint to start walking, the chatter of all the men in the room filling up my ears. Instinctively I know that Beowulf isn't behind me--he's talking to some men about going out to Bariaus Valley--so I stop after I'm on the other side of the threshold of the building. Steady, yet somewhat hurried steps approach me. "This is yours." I turn around and see my basket with my black cloth on its top.

"Thank you." I take the basket from Beowulf. "I hope that whatever happened isn't too bad."

He looks at me, mirth in his dark eyes. "Seems like everything's my fault, even when I don't do anything. Anyway, next time we have a picnic, I'll be carrying my sword."

"I thought you didn't want to kill anyone?" Oh, wait, Temple Knight spells. "Ah, sorry, I forgot about the spells."

"Hm," he murmurs noncommittally. "I'll see you later." He pauses, then smiles. "I love you."

My ears are burning. I smile widely and uncomfortably. "T-thank you."

"You're very welcome." He grins. "you're so cute."

Okay, I..I'm leaving now. "Until next time," I bow slightly, more to hide my red face than out of politeness, then I start walking towards the church. The door creaks closed a moment later.

God, it's so strange to hear those words towards me from someone who isn't a family member, but I...well...

I could grow used to hearing them.

And about my own feelings, well...I can't wait to fully untangle all my confusion and be able to say that I love him back.

I can't wait to see his face when I can say those words back.

-End to Twelve-

This chapter wasn't really supposed to exist in the first place. Most of it is mish-mash from other chapters: a scene that was originally supposed to be in chapter 9, the whole issue of love, which was supposed to be in the real chapter 12, which is now chapter 13. I think there's something here that wasn't even supposed be mentioned until chapter 19...or is that now chapter 20?  
This chapter also starts on a different path. This fanfic is PG-13 for reasons I think are viable, and I will clearly mark a chapter if I think the content is crossing the line over to R-rated.

Right. Now that I've completely covered my ass, reviewers!

Luna-chan, am I the type of writer who throws out plot twists and constantly surprises readers with them? I honestly don't know. But, I will say that you're wrong and right about Reis at the same time. But you'll have to wait on exactly what for...a while. Y'know, I really liked writing Izlude. All cute and boyish...I was seriously hoping to have him join my party sooner or later, but...well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write about him, now can I? If you feel old about Shiawasena, what about me:P I was really surprised when I saw your first review for this story, but it was really comforting, considering that I was very unsure about breaking into a new section. It's really great to have people who think that my work is worth following, especially since I want to write professionally. Your commentary is always welcome for any of my stories, and I hope that your friend likes this story as well as you apparently do.

So, Mavina, you're like a non-powered up Arreat's Hymn now, huh? I find it so weird that you have such problems signing in and such, because I never run into those problems, especially with such a high percentage! Gah, everytime I play FFT I get depressed over Izlude...he seriously owned. As far as seeing Meliadoul and Izlude again...I can definitely say 'yes', but not in the main story. I want to write a short story with the whole Izlude-Reis-Meliadoul thing connected to WHW, just to write Izlude again. I'd say that Reis is more reserved than shy, but yeah. It's cute and fun for me to write, as well as adds personality. Okay, so now I understand Soa...y'know, LoD was like the only PSX game that I never really got into. I played a demo of it years back, but it was...eh. Can't really remember. I have heard it's like a ripoff of FFVII, but I've never played that game either, so...  
Plot all you like, it'll all be revealed when I'm good and ready. P

Nice to meet you, crimsoncookie (I really like your name, by the way)! Um, thank you for telling me how you felt about this serial, it's always great to read reviews from people I've never seen before. I try to keep the balance of angst and uplifting moments (I refuse to say WAFF just 'cause I'm not that type of writer ) just right so that I don't scare off readers. >> Anyway, I'm honored to hear that I helped inspire you, and I can't wait to see some of your FFT work.

Hello, Kurai Tenshi--almost called you 'Kuroi' for a second--your comments made me blush! First person's my usual MO, and I don't think there would've been any way I could've written this story in third...it's hard bringing across all the emotion that way, y'know? I'm very happy that you enjoyed reading all the chapters in one sitting, that would've tired me out. You must definitely replay to experience Izlude! Anyway, I can't stop writing now, can I?

Thank you for reading this latest installment of Within Holy Walls! Reviewer or not, you still totally own Dycedarg's elder brother.

Chapter 13: Admission (_--Express your mind--_): "Verden, can you explain to me what this is about?"


	13. 13: Admission

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Thirteen: Admission (_-express your mind-_)

-0-

"Over...tighten...loop, loop, under...tighten...there," I smile as I put up my hair in a ponytail with a sky-blue ribbon. Shaking my head, I can feel the feathery brush of my hair against my back and shoulders. That tickles...

My hands run down the front of my sky-blue dress, sleeveless and reaching down to my shins for this June day. Underneath the dress I have poofy dark-blue pants that tie off at the ankle, which I don't need because I'll be sitting down all day, but they're comfortable and fun to walk around in. That and they puff out my dress, making my lower half look like a floating, miscolored cloud.

It's amusing to me. Since I'll be translating all day today, I'll need a lot more amusement than looking up into the skylight and hurting my neck.

I am grateful for my job. I am grateful for my job. Maybe if I repeat that enough, I can finish the translation today...

After putting on my favorite black boots I walk out of my room, carefully closing the door behind me before I turn in the direction of the library--

_--_shooph...shooph...shooph--

That sounds like something heavy is being dragged along the stone floor...behind me? I turn around and watch as Peppermint drags a suitcase--I want to say it's made out of cherry wood, but I'm not sure--completely out of her room and plops down on it.

Is she traveling somewhere? I don't recall her telling me about a trip of any sort...

"Good morning, Peppermint!" I call out, walking up to her. Verden is always so kind about when I can come in and leave, so I'm sure he won't mind if I'm a little late.

She looks up at me, startled for a moment before her lips curve in that easy smile of hers. "Hey Reis, you look like a pear."

I like pears. "Thank you." I smile and she smiles and something isn't right about all this smiling. "What are you doing with that suitcase?"

"Oh, you know, moving," she shrugs casually. I nod.

"Into a bigger room?" I don't even know if there are such things as 'bigger rooms' here, but Peppermint's been here for a long time so maybe it's based on seniority?

"Ah...sort of." Her smile wavers. Her auburn hair is in her face. This is the first time I've ever seen her head uncovered. Oh, she's wearing a wine-red sleeveless dress with a short-sleeved white shirt underneath, not her regulated robe.

Wait...why not?

I frown slightly. She always wears that robe, it seems to be required for all white mages. "Peppermint, why aren't you in your white mage's robe?"

"Oh, that's an easy question." Now that I think about it, maybe she already packed it away...simple things like that never occur to me. "See, I'm no longer a white mage."

...I guess that's a simple answer, too.

Thoroughly confused now, I crouch down so that I'm closer in height with her. "You were one yesterday." I look at her expectantly and she nods, her face still bearing that little smile of hers. "So what makes today any different?"

Her smile widens. "Got caught."

Caught? That answer branches off into five other questions, so my mind decides to stick with the easiest one. "What?"

"Well..." She leans forward, her dark eyes on mine. "My boyfriend and I were leaving my room when Priest Buremonda happened to be walking by." Giggling slightly, she looks off to the side at the inner wall of the church. "Four months' luck ran out...oh well."

Wait, wait, I'm still not understanding this. "'Four months' luck'...?"

Running her hands through her short hair, she looks at me, that omnipresent little spark in her eyes suddenly fading fast. "Since Priest Buremonda established his little rule, yes. But Takeo and I have been together for almost two years now."

Takeo...? That sounds foreign. Foreign...yesterday, the knight with Chiroseau...he was from the Eastern Lands. That knight is Peppermint's boyfriend...I see...

"That's a very long time," I offer, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Yes." She closes her eyes. "We were planning on getting married this year, but then Examiner Draclau left that priest in charge..." Her voice takes on a harder tone at her last words. "But it's fine now. Now we can leave and get married, start a new life...doesn't that sound nice, Reis?"

I...I guess. I haven't thought about getting married in years. "It sounds completely different from being a white mage. Is that really alright with you?"

"It's not my choice," she whispers, lowering her forehead to her knees, "but I 'disobeyed the rules', so now I'm stripped of everything and being tossed out of town..." She raises her head and stares at me. "Since when is being in love 'disobeying' God's rules? Saint Ajora's rules? Is it offending anyone to know that I can love?"

_--I love you_--

"I-it shouldn't." My voice is weak, but I try to stumble along anyway. "Having the capacity to love...isn't that one of God's gifts bestowed to his children?"

That's what Mama always said, anyway...

"'Children'?" Peppermint sounds confused, "God only had a child, Saint Ajora Glabados."

...Oh. Right. And him too. "...I mean, to all people." Of course. "You...you can't fight this at all?"

She sighs and looks down at the stone floor between our bodies. "I think that four years is enough time for running away."

...Hm? "From where?"

"From Fovoham..." she trails off, then glances up at me. "From Riovanes castle."

The castle itself, or the town around it? "Please tell me, I'd like to hear."

Shrugging slightly, she looks down at the floor again. "Sure, but don't you have work?"

"Yes." I make myself more comfortable on the ground, eventually sitting cross-legged in front of Peppermint. "Please go on."

"Sure." She takes a deep breath. "See, I'm from this little settlement in the Fovoham Plains called Najak. It was where all the survivors of the Romandan invasion joined up. It was a nice life."

Is she implying that she lived through the Romandan invasion? That would mean that she's probably only a bit older than myself. "Excuse me, but...you survived the invasion?"

She looks blankly at me for a second, then nods. "I was only a couple months old when it happened."

"Oh..." I look at the wall. That would make her around twenty-three years old.

I can't believe how recent that sounds...

"Now, where was I...ah, right. A lot of the war was being fought in Fovoham in those days because of the failed siege of Ordalia, so our side got pushed back and the Ordalians took over Limberry and Zeltennia." With dark brown eyes shimmering faintly, she smoothes out her dress over her legs. "It wasn't safe in Fovoham, but before my family could leave, the settlement got destroyed in a battle between our troops and the Ordalians. All that was left were a couple other kids and myself."

Oh...

"You look so horrified, Reis," she observes.

I stare at her. What else can I be? "It's...war is so..."

I can't stand it.

People treat each other so horribly, and then they go as far as to rationalize what they've done as 'the right thing to do'.

'The right thing to do'...what is that?

I'm sure that 'the right thing to do' isn't to kill each other over land or because other people don't believe in what you believe in.

"It's a common story in the Lionel region." Her lips are a pale, thin line on her face. "Everyone...almost everyone here could tell you about the war effort in Zeltennia, in Bervenia, in Fovoham and Limberry. Most of the people here ran away from the war, holding their hands to their ears and trying to block out any news about it. The Church helps out on that front too, and everybody is happy because they're not out there." She chuckles bitterly. "We've all run..."

"I...haven't." It's not a lie, because I'm sure she just means physically.

Otherwise, I'm just like everyone else.

She studies me. "Where is your family?"

...? "Gone," I whisper after a long moment.

"Dead?"

I suppress a sudden feeling of irritation. "Gone."

"Ah," she says casually, which angers me because she didn't have to think that my family is...dead, because I can't remember anything like that. If I can't remember it, it couldn't have happened.

'Dead' is such a final word...

"Everybody runs," Peppermint states, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, "there's no one in the world who can claim otherwise. But I was talking about the destruction of Najak. The other orphans and I traveled to Riovanes castle town, where we all became street rats." She takes in my confused expression. "Basically, we resorted to petty thievery in order to survive."

"That sounds hard..." I murmur, and she nods slightly.

"Sure, but then again you're saying that while living in a church and receiving free food and board, all while making money off the fact that you can read. When you're starving, homeless, and constantly running from adults, even someone like you can become motivated enough to steal for a living." She looks off to the side, this time through the holes in the outer wall.

...I didn't think that people actually could live off of that. But...I have to admit that it never crossed my mind in the first place.

That man who tried to steal my valise when I first arrived...was he just trying to live to see the next day?

There really is no 'right', is there?

"One day I was caught and brought to the castle. They were going to cut off my head, but Duke Barinten wanted to have me enter his 'special orphanage'." She sighs.

'Special orphanage'? "So...it's different from the Church's orphanages?"

Her head quickly swivels around and she gives me a sharp look. I flinch, and her glare softens somewhat. "Church orphanages don't like children who steal, and Barinten's main 'orphanage' was an assassination group of magically gifted children."

...What? "That's...why would a duke have such a thing?"

"The man likes power." She returns to staring at the outer wall. "That's where I learned black magic. I had to sneak around to do so, but I also learned a lot of white magic. But then I turned sixteen and it was discovered that I didn't have any especial magic, so I was placed in another 'special orphanage' out in the wilderness."

Another one? Why are there so many of these false organizations? "What happened then?"

Slowly she draws in a deep breath. "Reis, I like you. I like you a lot. I don't want to tell you something that would lower your opinion of me..."

"I don't care about opinions," I blurt out. "We're friends." Smiling, I reach out and take her hands, which were resting on her lap. She jerks and looks at me. "We're sisters, right?"

"...I wouldn't want to tell my younger sister something like this." Her eyes narrow and her hands tense. Encouragingly, I hold them tightly. "Remember what I told you about sex yesterday?"

How could I forget? I nod.

"Even with someone you love, sex isn't always going to be an expression of love. Sometimes it's just for fun, and that's okay too. But there are some people who think that it's always only for fun, or to dominate another person, and..." She takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly. "Barinten had an 'orphanage' filled with young women who were made to...to service these sort of men. And I...I had to..."

"Don't say anymore," I plead. She bites her lower lip and closes her eyes. Our hands are clutching each other's so, so tightly that it's like our hands are one.

I don't understand. I don't know if I want to understand. But seeing her eyes flare with emotions I can't even begin to imagine, her jaw clenching and unclenching almost hypnotically, and her voice halting and unsure...this isn't the Peppermint I know.

But it is.

That hurts.

The barest silver of her pain...if I took in any more I think it would be too much...

"Two years," she whispers, "two years before they forgot to draw out all my magic power before throwing me into a room with some high-class noble. It felt good to just let go and burn him and that manor to a crisp." Her eyes flicker up to mine. "I didn't even try to help the other girls, I just danced among the flames and cried."

The night before I left for Lionel, I danced among the books. But I didn't cry. I've never cried.

I don't think her feelings were anything like mine, though.

Peppermint's eyes close. "I made my way to Bervenia, not caring if I died in a crossfire or by monsters. I made it and prayed to Saint Ajora for guidance. A kind priest there, Priest Onoti, let me stay at the church. I became a white mage there, then I was transferred to Lionel province, first at Zaland, then Warjilis, before finally staying here."

...Priest Onoti?

_--It is a mystery. Head cataloguer Triffre wants to work with her...seems that she rather likes looking at books, though it can't be proven that she can read. What do you think, Priest Onoti?"_

_"That's fine. Although it isn't possible to help every child with the war raging on, there is a possibility we can help her and give her a new life..._--

I...he was the priest who took me to Murond. At least, it could be him.

What a small country this is...

"I first met Takeo in Zaland. He didn't really interest me back then. He was so shy, and he looked younger than me and I didn't even look nineteen." A small smile appears on her face and I feel so relieved to see it. "Back then, I didn't like men at all. They start wars and force us to fight in them. Marriage, from the king and queen to the farmers and chocobo breeders, is only about bearing children. Love and marriage aren't analogous terms in Ivalice, in the Eastern Lands, probably the whole world.

"But when I saw him again here, we started talking and..." She smiles brightly, even though her eyes still don't seem to match it. "He really made an impression on me. This man, who was so shy and so gentle, was also a Holy Knight for no other reason than because he wanted to help people. He didn't have to, considering that he's a foreigner, but he wanted to." She lets go of my hands. "I couldn't help but love him."

It must be wonderful to realize that you love someone.

Where's my wonder...?

"And so..." Peppermint starts, standing up and brushing down her dress, "we're going to meet at the south entrance and head for Warjilis. That's what we planned if this should ever happen. We'll get married there and work on the docks or something. We'll have children with black hair and brown eyes, and we'll teach them that the best thing in the world is to help other people. It'll be hard at first, but it'll be okay."

"Both you and your boyfriend?" That doesn't sound right because if Verden told Peppermint to leave, then the person who told Takeo to leave is... "But that's not right!" I burst out, startling her. "Beowulf told me he wouldn't!"

_--I'm no hypocrite_--

He isn't...he can't be...

He wouldn't lie to me...

"Beowulf..." The name is drawn out slowly from Peppermint's lips as she stares at me in bewilderment. "Your friend...is Sir Kadmus? The leader of the Lionel Holy Knights' Sir Kadmus?"

I close my eyes. "More than my friend."

Although I'm not sure what that really is...

When I open my eyes again, Peppermint is shaking her head. "I shouldn't be surprised, right? That explains it...well, the rest of it."

Hm? "Explains what?"

"Sir Kadmus told me that he didn't want Takeo to leave," she states. Oh, good... "In fact, I was called into a meeting at seven this morning with Sir Kadmus and Priest Buremonda." She pauses. "It was odd to see Sir Kadmus insisting that I should stay. Those two...I knew they didn't get along very well, but it was scary to see them arguing about my fate."

Personally, I wouldn't have wanted to be there. "Why don't they like each other?"

"I know why Sir Kadmus wouldn't like Priest Buremonda." She looks at me, fidgeting uncomfortably. "When Priest Buremonda first made the announcement, he expected Sir Kadmus to make the same declaration to the knights. But Sir Kadmus said that his job wasn't to tell the knights who they could date. Priest Buremonda then insinuated that Sir Kadmus' refusal secretly meant that he had a secret girlfriend somewhere."

This is sad. It really shows a different side to Verden... "A secret girlfriend?"

She looks down at me, a strange expression on her face. "Basically that he was keeping whores around. He used to always be out of town."

...Oh. But, um... "Should I ask what a 'whore' is, Peppermint?"

Now she just looks pained. "A woman who sells her body for sex."

Oh. "That's horrible for Verden to imply." I'm insulted. Beowulf doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would...buy women. Then again, I'm biased about that.

"That's the general opinion among the knights," she says, sounding relieved. "Takeo once said that until recently, all he would do was work..." The left side of her lips rise, making for a rather sardonic little smile. "Now I understand the 'until recently'."

I stand up, unsure of what to say now. "...How did the meeting go?"

"You see the suitcase, don't you?" Peppermint shakes her head, "I wasn't surprised at the outcome, but I was surprised that Sir Kadmus even tried to argue for me. He even apologized afterward for not succeeding. Does he know that we're friends?"

"Yes," I say promptly. It was one of the first things I had told him once I decided on opening myself up.

"Ah. Well, I should get going." She looks at me and smiles. "Take care of yourself, Reis."

Wait...we were just talking...can't we keep on talking?

I want to keep talking to you. I want to learn more from you. Didn't you tell me yesterday to call you 'big sister'?

_--I want to be your brother_--

I can't even keep my surrogate family members around.

"Likewise, Peppermint. Please..." Tell me again why you have to leave. "Please write to me."

She nods once, twice. "You too. I want to hear how you and Sir Kadmus are doing."

I nod eagerly. "Yes, of course."

Silence. Unbearable, uncomfortable silence. We both stare at the ground, the walls, anything but each other.

I don't want to acknowledge that she has to go.

Verden...why?

Our eyes meet, time catches up to us, and slowly but resolutely, she picks up the handle of her suitcase and drags it past me. I don't turn, I don't offer to help.

I don't want to prolong this.

_--_shoop...shoop...shoop--

At the end of the hall, the dragging of the suitcase stops. "Goodbye, Reis."

I lower my head. "Goodbye...Penelope."

She makes an appreciative noise. "Thank you." Then the suitcase resumes being dragged.

I wait until I can't hear that steady noise anymore before I turn around and head for the library.

I want to talk to Verden.

-0-

I tap my pen impatiently against my notepad. The tome is open, scant pages left until the end, but I can't concentrate on the words. Every time I try, I see the letters that make up Verden and Peppermint's names, and a dull ache throbs in my chest.

Everybody keeps disappearing.

And for once, I have someone other than myself to blame.

This announcement...why is it so important that white mages and knights are segregated? I can't think of any viable reasons, and no one else seems to know...

A reason only known to Verden...I can't feel comfortable unless I know.

A rush of air escapes between my clenched teeth. Ah, I'm really tense...

"Oh, good afternoon Reis," Verden's voice has a cheerful lilt to it as his footsteps approach behind me.

My eyes narrow.

Verden walks past me, sitting down in his usual place across from me. Normally, I would be so happy to have a break from translating and talking to a friend, but right now... "May I ask you a question, Verden?"

He looks at me, serenity firmly in place. "I will endeavor to answer anything you ask."

Oh, good. "Please explain to me the logic behind your rule about the white mages being unable to carry relationships with the knights."

"I didn't already tell you? It's actually very simple." His eyes light up, and he actually looks...overjoyed to tell me. "It is out of protection that I established that rule."

Protection? From what? "I don't understand." My face is carefully blank, but my jaw keeps on clenching.

He closes his eyes for a moment, almost as if he were collecting his thoughts. When he opens them again, I've mostly gotten my jaw-clenching under control. "You have to understand, Reis, that men have...urges. I simply do not wish for the white mages, most of them young, innocent girls, to be manipulated into relationships in order to satiate more...sinful desires."

That would be all well and good, if not for the gaping hole in his logic. "Verden," I start softly, "you yourself are a man. Does this mean that the girls should be protected from you as well?"

For a brief moment, his face tightens, his composure drops, and he doesn't look nearly as beautiful as usual. Then everything is back in place. "I am a priest."

What does that have to do with anything? "And they're knights. Do our job descriptions dictate who we are inside?"

"Reis..." His voice is strained, a slight timbre to his gentle tone. "Why do you ask?"

"You let Penelope go from the white mages just because she was with her boyfriend." It's a strain to be so straightforward and harsh on a continual basis, but wholly necessary.

It's a strain, but it's not so hard to get used to.

"Her... 'boyfriend'." An eyebrow rises. "Is that what she told you?"

I'm on guard, because that question seems really...suspicious. "Yes, it is."

"I'm sorry to say that Miss Mintopolous is not a woman with the very best of morals." He pauses, studying my face. I don't know what he's looking for, but I draw on my old habits and keep my face blank. "Do you know anything of her past?"

Slowly my eyes narrow. "Yes, all of it. Why do you ask?"

His light blue eyes slide to the left, then the right, then directly at me. "To get an understanding of how close the two of you were."

'Were'? "'Are', you mean."

He stares at me blankly. "Excuse me?"

"'To get an understanding of how close the two of you are' is what you mean." I take a deep breath. "And we are friends."

He lowers his gaze. "Hearing that saddens me greatly. A woman such as you should not let herself be influenced by someone as...free-spirited as Miss Mintopolous."

"I don't understand what you're saying." The way he refers to Peppermint...it's insulting. "Her only 'crime' is the fact that she stayed with her boyfriend even after you made your announcement. Since when is being in love a crime, Verden?"

Lower lip trembling slightly, he sighs. "I don't have a problem with love, but I do have a problem with how it is expressed on church property. Men walking out of a white mage's room in daylight...what kind of message do you think that sends to all of parishioners? There are standards to be upheld, and even if she hadn't broken the terms of my announcement, she still would've been dismissed because of her utter lack of regard for the Church's image."

"...I see." I can understand that. He has a good point.

No one really does care about what is sleeping inside the lovely cocoon.

"Reis," he says quietly. I look at him. "You realize that you are not exempt from the rule. As long as you reside in Lionel as a woman of the Church, whether it be cataloguer or ward, you are not allowed to establish a relationship with a knight of any rank."

...Too late.

"You've not had lunch yet, have you?" he asks, wringing his hands. I shake my head. I feel numb... "Please, take your lunch break. It's already past two."

"Thank you," I murmur, rising from my seat and heading for the door.

"Oh, Reis?" Turning around, I see Verden's concerned expression and inwardly groan. I want to be left alone right now. "Are you in love with a knight yourself? You can tell me without any consequences, because I know that you are pure-hearted."

...I don't trust that. "No, I'm not in love," and I turn and exit the library.

I wish I were lying.

I wish I knew what the truth was.

-0-

Wandering the shopping street, I try to find something that looks good. Too bad my appetite seems to have completely disappeared.

I can't argue for Peppermint. I can't bring her back. I can't bring back Izlude either. And my family...

Am I really so useless?

Peppermint, Izlude, my family...at least they all aren't alone. And myself...I'm so selfish that I keep grasping at people, even though it seems ordained that I can only spend a short while with them.

Well, Beowulf's still with me.

I stop and look down at the dusty street.

And when will he leave?

I sigh. What a hopeless existence, staying in one place and merely waiting for people to drift by me, then leave.

Can't I move, too?

"Oh, Miss Reis." I look up and see Chiroseau before me. "Good afternoon."

Is it really? "Good afternoon, Sir Chiroseau."

He studies me. "You don't look like you believe your own words."

It's probably because I don't. "I'm sorry."

"Miss Reis, I'm not Kadmus, but...would you tell me what is bothering you?" Chiroseau is so kind. I nod.

"Peppermint left this morning, and I confronted Verden over her." I don't feel like going on... "I feel rather useless at the moment."

Something heavy is on my head, softly patting me. I look up to into Chiroseau's thoughtful expression. "But, if you tried your hardest, doesn't that count for something?"

But it didn't do anything in the end... "It doesn't feel like it counts for anything. It feels like I'm a failure."

"...You know, Kadmus worked two shifts, the seven at night to one in the morning shift as well as the one in the morning to seven in the morning shift." Hearing those words, I feel annoyed. Why is he working so much? "He usually only works one shift because of all the paperwork he has, but he had to take over young Takeo's shift as well."

I look away. And this goes back and affects Beowulf... "I hope he's not doing paperwork right now."

"He shouldn't be." He takes his hand away and I sigh. It was a comforting touch, too... "When my shift ends at seven, should I tell Kadmus to meet you somewhere?"

I smile, a pathetic attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. "That would be really appreciated."

"Don't worry about it." He looks around, his height an advantage over the many women shopping at this hour. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

"No, I'm not very hungry right now." I don't know how I can even think of food right now. It just seems so unimportant compared to everything else.

He keeps looking around a moment longer before looking down at me. "That won't do at all. At least eat something small. It'll give you some energy for when you talk to Kadmus."

I guess that's a good incentive. "Okay, then." We head for a small vendor specializing in dried fruits. We pass by the main gate, and I can see the road stretch out through Bariaus Valley.

How far are Peppermint and Takeo down that road?

-0-

Wearily, I finish the last page during the period where the sun has more or less gone down, but it's not completely dark yet. Finally I won't have to read about Ajora's inane doomsday prophecies! All his talk about people succumbing to demons and that it's easier for people to become evil rather than good...and here I thought I was pessimistic.

Well, I'm done with that.

I close the book and my notepad, then I walk out of the library. I'll proofread my work, then I'll give the notepad to Verden. That's easy enough. Right now, I just want to be with Beowulf.

It's such a warm night, very fitting for late June. I really like it when it's warm. Humming a nameless melody, I turn, walking past the rooms, then turn again to the back of the church...hm? Beowulf is already there, sitting on the sill, his back against the edge of the wall. He seems to be looking out into the approaching night. Is it really that late already?

I stop humming and silently step up to him. "Good evening, Beowulf."

"Reis." He turns his head, a casual smile on his face. "How are you feeling? Chiroseau told me that you seemed depressed."

Maybe just a bit. "Today just wasn't a good day." I look at the way Beowulf is sitting, with his legs on either side of the sill. He looks comfortable. I sit down next to his left leg, which is technically inside of the church, and I stare down at my lap.

"Come closer." I look over at him. He motions for me to come up to him. 'Closer' sounds like a good idea, so I wriggle backwards along the sill until my back bumps against his chest. My legs go over the sides of the sill. It's a good thing I was wearing pants underneath my dress, or else I wouldn't have been able to move so freely.

"Like this?" I settle against his chest and his arms encircle my waist, holding me to him securely. It's like being supported. I know he's there.

Just what I need right now.

"Mm-hm," he murmurs into my right ear. My face heats up and I feel...sort of strange. What an odd reaction... "Is this about your friend?"

I can only be thankful that he knows to whisper when his lips are that close to my ear, or else I'd be in a lot of pain now. "I talked to Peppermint just as she was leaving..." I lower my head. "Then I confronted Verden about it."

His hold shifts slightly. "What did he say?"

"He explained to me why he set up that rule about knights and white mages." I grit my teeth in frustration. "He was implying things that I really...I just..."

I thought Verden was such a nice person. With that calmness that seemed above humanity, it was so easy to think of him as an unattainable being. But the things he's insinuated about Beowulf, about the knights, about Peppermint...

I don't think a nice person would go that far at all.

He's just as human as the rest of us.

"Reis?" Beowulf is holding me tighter than before, and for a second I feel trapped.

Everybody's different than what they present on the outside.

Peppermint's casual straightforwardness and her past.

Verden's gentle tranquillity and his suspicions about everyone.

Beowulf's cheerful kindness and...and...

I frown.

What is he really?

Even I know myself better than I do him. Somehow...that doesn't seem right. "Beowulf?"

"Yes?" he sounds concerned. The things I put him through...I wonder how he really feels about that?

"Are you a good person?" I'm sure it sounds like such a silly, easy question. Of course he's a good person. He's almost too good. But I...

He doesn't respond for a long time. "A good person...what does it mean to be a good person?"

I wish I knew. "I'm not sure."

"Then..." he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, the air tickling my ear. I don't squirm, anxious as I am to hear his answer. "How about I let you decide for yourself?"

How would I go about doing that? He's been nothing but a good person to me. "Excuse me?"

"It's not something I like talking about," he says quietly, "but for you...do you want to hear about my past?"

I don't want to push him into doing something he doesn't want to do...but at the same time I'm curious. "If you don't want to, then--"

"I want to." The words are rushed, the tone determined. Slowly, I nod.

I want to understand the 'you' that you're hiding from the rest of the world.

Just like I wanted from Peppermint, I want...I want Beowulf to share himself with me.

I promise I'll do the same once I can remember.

And with his lips brushing against my earlobe, he begins to whisper...

-End to Thirteen-

I apologize for the cliffhanger-ish ending. It's amateurish, I know, but there are worse ways to end. Oh, are there worse ways...

The subtitle Express your mind comes from a song by Laputa, a J-rock band.

Reis' outfit...think Momo from Breath of Fire III, but...less tent-like.

Reviewers!

Ah, Jaded Soul, nice to see you again! I took your advice and made the change as soon as I read your review, and thank you very much for catching that. That chapter was almost too long to proofread...anyway, I hope that you won't have to catch me if I stumble again. ;

Luna-chan, I'm so happy that you took time out of your busy schedule to write a review! P Believe me, you'll find out more about the talk between Peppermint and Reis in future chapters. Personally, I don't think Reis would've been all that embarrassed about that talk because she's never been socialized to think that sex is a bad, dirty thing. ; And please, speculate all you want, it's not getting revealed anytime soon. oO You have plot demons? Are those anything like the 'plot bunnies' I read around Are your demons anything like the ones in Disgaea, because if they are, then they must be pretty cool.

Suteki Maiden, nice to see you back! Hm, I don't really know if I do a good job with portraying emotions. A lot of the time I've probably actually dealt with the emotions, and other times I'm just drawing on what I know from drama and psychology classes. I think it's easier on me rather than 'the author is emoting a lot', which I find annoying to read. And yes, Reis/Beowulf is a great pairing!

MavGunloc...I know you from somewhere, don't I? I've read something of yours. I would click your name and find out who exactly you are, but I'm rushing enough as is. Um, I'm not as good as you say I am, trust me. I definitely don't write as good of reviews as you do. That first kiss in chapter 12 was probably my most worked-over scene yet, so I'm really appreciative that you mentioned it. But I am exceedingly happy that you've picked up FFT again!  
You're absolutely right that capturing the characters can be the hardest thing in fanfiction writing, but I don't think it's so much 'for the readers' as it is 'for themselves'. This may not make me sound very good, but I don't write for my potential readers, rather because I feel that the characters deserve to be written about. Reading reviews from my readers is just a very wonderful bonus, but I'm happy just as long as the story is out there and it makes people think more about the character(s) being portrayed. It probably also helps that I don't think of the characters as 'inhabiting a game universe' so much as 'this is where they live'. Maybe I'm just fanatical?  
It makes me so happy to see that another person wants to follow this story to the end. You take it easy too.

Hey, Mavina. Actually, the Dragoner class has innate Monster Talk, as well as Train and that one monster skill in the squire skillset. Oh, and Two Swords. (You were talking about mediators, I think ) But as far as this story is concerned, Reis can talk to monsters because of her hunter training. And hey, if your food was talking to you, wouldn't you talk back to it? I totally would...  
According to this chapter, knights can date anyone they want. Well, 'cept for white mages. Oh, and Reis. Well, blame Verden for it, but he's just being 'protective'.

Well, Zwee, I'm not sure you'll ever come up this far to read this comment, but here goes: I said that 'according to the game, Libra has 'Good' compatibility with Pisces'. I never said 'best', so I fail to see the misconception. And of course their signs have nothing to do with them falling in love, I just stated what seemed like an interesting fact. Besides, of all the fics to complain about misusage of game mechanics, I honestly can't see why you'd pick this one. Thank you, regardless.

Thank you for reading! Whether you're a reviewer or non-reviewer, you're cooler than an Ice Bracelet!

Chapter 14: The Amiable Knight, Beowulf Kadmus: 'Young Beowulf had few problems in his childhood. Born to the dean of magical studies of Lesalia Academy and a noblewoman with an influential ancestry, he was virtually assured of an easy life. However, one of his few problems had to do with his mysterious crimson eyes and crisp blond hair.

Because of this, no one was quite sure who had fathered him.'


	14. 14: The Amiable Knight, Beowulf Kadmus

Within Holy Walls

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own any of the characters or locations in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 14: The Amiable Knight, Beowulf Kadmus

(Lesalia, November of Pantora 23)

It was a cold day.

The wind blew furiously throughout the mostly empty streets of uptown Lesalia Imperial castle city; Larner Channel had always seemed to produce the worst winds in early winter, then again during the tail end of the season. Knowing this, the various servants of the manors along the cobblestone streets before the royal castle tended to hasten their daily chores around the city, whereas in spring and summer they would practically choke up the streets.

In one of the more grand manors along this royal pathway, a young boy with reddened cheeks stared morosely out of a window on the second floor. He hated winter because of his intense dislike for staying at home, and frequently snuck out to play along the frozen-over fountains in his neighborhood. Because of this, he now had a severe cold and was forbidden by his older sister to leave the house.

So, he stared out of his window and sulked.

"...Is'sna' fair," he muttered underneath his breath, "I'll tell Sis I don' wanna stay in here anymore," resolute in this goal, he jumped off his bed. Despite his clumsy dismount, he managed to get to his door with nothing more than a stubbed toe--but he wasn't going to cry because he was a big boy and big boys don't cry no matter what--and yanked it open, promptly stubbing his other toe. Sucking in a deep breath at this, he rethought his position on crying, decided to continue it, then stuck his head past the threshold of the doorway.

The hallway was empty.

All clear, he thought victoriously to himself as he hopped out into the hallway. "Sis'd be in her room, stud'ing," with this in mind, he hobbled awkwardly down the hall, making sure not to put any pressure on his big toes. Almost there...almost there...almost--

"Master Beowulf! What do you think you're doing outside of bed, young man?"

Caught.

Hunching up his shoulders, he guiltily turned around. In front of him was his older sister's chambermaid, an elderly woman who stood stoutly above him. "M-matwron Leeza..." he flushed darkly, his cheeks almost the same red as his eyes. He began to move around nervously, "I'm looking for Sis."

"Your sister has expressed orders to keep you in bed until you're better," the unofficial matron of the Kadmus children frowned down at the boy, "did you want food or something to drink?"

Beowulf shook his head.

"Speak up, boy. What did you want?"

"I want t' complain."

At this, Leeza shook her head, crossing her arms at the same time. "And I'm sure that you'll just keep getting up and running around until you do get to complain, right?"

Innocently, the four-year-old nodded.

"Fine, do as you will. But when your sister gives you hell about it, don't mention my name," the elderly woman shook her head one more time, then walked away. Beaming, the young boy stumbled the rest of the way over to his sister's room without any other obstacles stalling him, or going as far as to send him back to bed. Beowulf hmphed at that thought. He was going to complain now, not when his sister came over to feed him lunch in twenty minutes.

With that stern message in mind, he politely knocked on her door. "Sis, I'm here t' complain!" He was expecting the door to be viciously thrown open and to get a severe talking-to before getting hauled off to bed. She was so fun to irritate.

Instead, the door still stood impassively in front of him.

"Sis--?" He knocked again. No answer. "SIS--?" No answer. "SIS--?"

No answer.

"I wish you would listen to me for once!"

Beowulf looked up and around expectantly. That was his sister's voice! So...where was she?

"What is there to listen to, Amelia?"

The blond-haired boy blinked. Another voice, this one almost unfamiliar, but he did recognize it.

"Can't you be a bit more caring, Mum?"

Yes, that's who she was to him. He had trouble remembering that sometimes.

If Sis and Mum were talking to each other, he reasoned, then they'd have to be in the same place. And the latter rarely ever left one room, so they'd both have to be there. At this he nodded to himself, then determinedly he limped his way to the large oak doors at the end of the family hall.

To his parents' room.

It took a lot of determination to go to that particular den of panthers, as his sister had warned him that he shouldn't ever go there. But, he thought to himself, if Sis was there, then everything would be okay. One of the doors was slightly open, and Beowulf figured it was an invitation to listen in because that wouldn't _really_ be disobeying his sister. Just slightly, that's all. So he stood at the crack between the imposing doors and listened.

"I just don't understand, Mum," his sister was saying, "he's your son. Why don't you ever want to come out and take care of him? Raise him, even?"

"...Who?" his mother said vaguely, "oh, that boy. You know, I was completely prepared to toss him to the local church, but Jason was so adamant on keeping him, even after he opened his eyes--"

"Mum, I know this already," Amelia sounded exasperated, "but I don't understand."

"That's because you're just a mere child," there was the sound of liquid being poured, "but when you get married off and have a child of your own, you'll definitely want that child to look like your husband."

A breath of air was heavily exhaled. "So he's got blond hair and red eyes. He's still my brother, he's still your son, he's--"

"He's a bastard, that's what he is!"

The boy at the door merely blinked. He understood that he was the subject of their discussion, but that word was unfamiliar...

"Mum..." his sister's voice was hushed with a tinge of surprise, "do you mean to say that those rumors...they're true?"

"Rumors..." loud gulping sounds could be heard by Beowulf, then, "those damn rumors. He said that he didn't care if the boy looked different, he really didn't, but then he left for the war! That stupid boy's ruined me!"

"You ruined yourself, Mum!" Amelia yelled, "I don't care what you say, Beowulf's my full brother. He's going to be a great person, no thanks to you..." footsteps rushed to the door, but Beowulf didn't move.

He knew that his mother rarely left her room since his father left for the war months ago. He couldn't remember the last time she held him, or talked directly to him. It seemed that she always talked through his sister.

Was it his fault? Beowulf thought numbly. Because he didn't look like Sis, with her brown hair and green eyes?

The door suddenly swung open, and he looked up to see his sister staring down at him in shock. Her lower lip trembled, eyes flashing through different emotions before settling on a surprised sort of concern. "Oh, B-Beowulf, were you looking for me? I thought I told you never to come here, silly," her tone was falsely high and he flinched at it, "it's lunchtime, isn't it?"

He nodded. "But I wan' t' complain, too."

Somehow, that didn't seem so important anymore.

"I-I see..." Amelia smiled tightly, "well, you can complain all you want. How about we go and have lunch in the dining room today. We'll have chocobo creamed soup, your favorite!"

"Wi' crackers?" The question came out normally, and he was happy to see his sister give her usual smile at it.

"With lots of crackers," the nine-year-old girl reached out and took his hand, "and sweet berry juice," and with that, the siblings went down the hall and Beowulf had almost forgotten what had just happened, but then he heard her whisper to herself, "because I love you, even if Mum doesn't," and suddenly he felt like crying.

But big boys aren't supposed to cry, no matter what.

-----

I'm confused. I don't think that I know what that word means. "Beowulf, what does being a 'bastard' mean?"

He shifts around a bit, and maybe...maybe I shouldn't have asked. Even if I'm not facing him, I can tell that he's uncomfortable. "It means that I don't have a father." he finally answers. "That, unlike Sis, Professor Jason Kadmus isn't my real father."

"I still don't understand," I lean back into him even more, running my hands along his tense arms, "that can be told just because you look different from everybody else?"

"...It's a dangerous thing to be different in any way, especially if you're a noble." He sighs, the exhalation rushing over my right ear. I can't help but twitch my ears at this.

People are afraid of what is 'different'. Well, maybe not afraid, but they don't like it.

I don't look terribly different from most Ivalicians. Blond hair, brown eyes, taller than most females and a fashion sense that's different than the norm of the townspeople. I could be worse off. And if I don't want to look different, I could just wear normal clothes.

But...I guess Beowulf never had that option in the first place. Even if he looks normal, he still is 'different'. And what he would need to change...it's not possible.

His mother seems to be a very cold person.

Beowulf clears his throat quietly. "The next year..."

-----

(Lesalia, July of Pantora 24)

"I hate this, Sis."

"Hold still, Beowulf! I'm trying to tie this..."

"..."

"Okay, now turn around!"

Beowulf turned around slowly, the beginnings of a dark glare in his eyes. He was beautifully adorned in a snow-white dress with intricate pink ribbons and masses of frills at the end of his long sleeves and the hem of the outfit. A matching hat was skillfully tilted on his head to the left, and white barrettes decorated with pink butterflies successfully pinned his long bangs away from his crimson eyes. "But Sis," he whined plaintively, "I'm a boy..."

"Yes, and I think it's such a pity," Amelia smiled, crouching before him as she brushed down the front of the dress, "you look even better in this dress than I ever did! It's got to be because of your light hair...I wish I had blond hair," she placed her hand just below his chin and looked into his rather ignoble scowl, "smile, little brother. You won't look pretty unless you smile."

The four-year-old moved his head back from his sister's hand. "I'm not s'pposed to be pretty," he crossed his arms roughly over the stiff material, "and b'sides, Mum would hate you too if you had blond hair."

"...Beowulf," the ten-year-old placed her hands on his small shoulders and forced him to look at her, "Mum doesn't hate you. She's just...going through a phase is all."

Oh, how he desperately wanted to believe that.

"When will her phase end, Sis?"

More than anything...

"...I don't quite know, little brother."

But he was only four. He didn't know how to lie to himself yet.

"Oh."

Amelia attempted a smile. "But you look so cute in that dress! You're better than any doll I used to have," she stood up, "I'm going to go to the storage room and see if I can't find some more of my old dresses."

"Why don't you go use your old dolls then 'stead of me?" Beowulf whined. His sister shook her head, fairly irritated now.

"Because I had to donate all of them to the war cause, remember? They needed the wood to make important things, and because of my donation the war will be shorter!"

The boy stared at her blankly. "So then, if the war's shorter, Dad will come home sooner?"

"Mm-hm," she shook out her long brown hair, "and Mum will be happier and she'll be over her phase, and it'll be all because of me!"

Beowulf was amazed, dark eyes widening in hope. "Really?"

"Rea--"

A loud wail shattered the comfortable moment between the two. Then there was the sound of glass shattering downstairs. Amelia bit her lip at this, eyebrows scrunching towards the bridge of her nose. "Beowulf, you stay here. I'll be right back," she raced out of her room, leaving her brother uncomfortably confused by the sudden noises. Nothing like this had ever happened in the Kadmus home before.

He waited and waited, nervously scratching his arms every so often. Expecting Amelia to hurry back as soon as possible, he plopped down onto the floor, not caring if the expensive material became irreparably wrinkled. He waited and waited, but his sister didn't come back.

Finally, he stood up again. "I'm going ta find Sis," he said strongly, and felt comforted by the tone of his voice. It didn't sound wobbly, it sounded firm and resolute. Picking up the skirts so that he wouldn't trip, he made his way out of his sister's room, looking up and down the hallway. He noticed that the doors to his parents' room were open, but he didn't want to go there. Quietly he walked down the hall toward the grand staircase that led to the front of the house.

Then he noticed that someone was walking towards him.

It was a woman, messily garbed in an elegant black dress that seemed too big for her frame. Her dark brown hair was pinned up, sparse strands scattered across her forehead. There were lines on her face, lines on her hands, but she didn't look old. She looked faded.

The woman stopped and Beowulf froze. He wasn't quite sure, but this tired woman seemed to be someone who belonged in his house.

Someone unseen...his mother?

She stared at him...or at a spot behind him. Her eyes were greenish hazel and wavered constantly, so he wasn't too sure if she was even seeing him. He was definitely staring at her, though. This unfamiliar woman that was probably his mother...how could he not stare?

Her pale lips parted and he held his breath. Would she actually speak to him for once?

"I loved him more than anything. I love him still...but I can never tell you that again, can I, darling?"

She moved past Beowulf, and he could dimly see a yellow piece of paper clasped in her right hand as she nearly brushed against him. Black and white nearly caressed, but failed to do so. Then she was gone, and Beowulf was all alone again.

Steps, loud against the wood floor, rushed at him, and he was overtaken by thin arms and heaving sobs. "Beowulf...it's horrible...our dad...!"

Years later when he himself set off to war, he would learn that the conflict that Jason Kadmus had died in had a name.

'The Romandan Invasion.'

-----

I turn around quickly in Beowulf's arms, placing my right hand against his chest and peering into his eyes. It's dark now, so dark that all the color has been drained except for black and shades of bluish-gray, but I can still see _him_. That's the only important thing.

He's...he's blank.

His voice, lively when he talks about his sister, goes into a monotone when he talks about his father...his mother.

My cheerful, confident Beowulf...this isn't him.

Parents are really important! As a big sister, I know that there are things that parents can do that siblings can't, even if they tried really hard. I can't imagine Mama or Papa ever ignoring me or my brothers. They showed us how much they loved us every day we were together.

A mother who ignores a child because of rumors, then because of grief...that's a woman who places herself first.

Can that sort of person really be called a 'mother'?

With a mother who only cared about her own reputation and a big sister who had to be both 'mother' and 'older sister' ...it's amazing that he's even halfway as well-adjusted--I think that's the word--as he is now.

But I...I really despise that woman...

"Beowulf...are you really sure you want to keep telling me this? I mean..." I can feel my voice wavering in my throat as he thins his lips and stares at me with blank eyes, "doesn't it hurt to remember all these things?"

He closes his eyes, and when they open again there's actual feeling brimming in them. Thank God... "To be honest, it feels kind of good to be telling someone all this," one of his arms loosens from my waist and moves upward, wrapping around my shoulders with his hand on my left shoulder. My left leg hurts, considering that it's on the side of the sill inside the church, so I raise it over the sill to join my right leg on the outside of the church. Shifting back a bit, I can lean my head against his shoulder and still look up into his face.

If I can look into his eyes, I can comfort him in time before the emotions in his eyes burn out of existence again.

"You seem tense," his voice is soft. I close my eyes.

"I'm angry," and I really am.

He tilts his head and looks into my eyes. "Why?"

No way to say this but bluntly... "I'm angry at your...mother," a person who doesn't deserve that honorable title.

"Don't waste your energy," he says almost harshly, and I lower my eyes to the buttons of his uniform. He didn't have to say it like that... "I'm sorry. I mean that she's dead now, so it's not worth it."

By the virtue of being dead, does that mean that the dead are exempt from what they've done when they were alive?

Respecting the dead...I'll only do that if they were respectable when they were alive.

"I think it's worth it," I say to his chest, unwilling to see his expression, "I don't fully understand, but she was the one who bore you into this world, right?"

He doesn't respond quickly, so I look up. He has a rather pensive look on his face. "Yes, there were witnesses present."

"Then, considering that she gave birth to you, it's her..." duty? No...responsibility? So many cold words about what should be such a wonderful...ah! "she should feel blessed that she can raise a child--two children--when so many other women can't."

After all, to become a mother...it's like the pinnacle of womanhood. I can't see why any woman would take that honor for granted.

Beowulf gazes at me for a long moment before offering me a small smile. "The way you think...I'm sure you'd be a great mother someday."

I certainly hope so. "Thank you," I smile.

We're both smiling at each other, but I can't help but think of Beowulf's story and its connection with Peppermint's.

The Romandan invasion...Peppermint said that she was affected by it too. People in Fovoham and Lesalia, spreading outward to relatives throughout all of Ivalice...maybe there's more people affected by that attack than not.

I guess I'm a rarity.

But in listening to the experiences of others, doesn't that connect me anyway?

Even if I'm not personally affected, I still want to share my feelings with those who were. Maybe that's empathy, but I'm not really sure.

"I should probably tell you about when I got involved in the war," Beowulf takes in a deep breath, his chest rising as he does so, "I was twelve, and it was April..."

-----

(Lesalia, April of Pantora 32)

"Why, Beowulf? Why are you doing this?"

The youth in question lowered his head, looking into the dark tea that filled half of his cup. "I can't stand it here any longer, Sis."

Seventeen-year-old Amelia Kadmus rose from her seat across from him then, chest heaving as she affixed a deadly glare onto her brother. "Absolutely not, Beowulf. I refuse to have you die out there!"

"I...I just want to do my part in helping Ivalice..."

"You just want to get away from Mum!"

Beowulf wished he could hide now. It really wasn't a good idea to tell his sister, he knew, but she did deserve to know. "Maybe."

"You always were a poor liar, little brother," she sat down huffily, taking a dainty sip of her tea before glaring at him again, "and you even decided to tell me now, when tomorrow I leave for school again."

"Yes, because I felt that you needed to know," he looked up into her face, nearly wincing at the severity of her scowl now, "don't they teach you in school to not look at people like that?"

"Like I give a bleeding fig about etiquette at a time like this," she rolled her eyes as Beowulf gaped at her, "anyway, did you really expect me to gather around the coronets and celebrate because, lo and behold, my little brother's going off to war!"

He bit his lower lip. "No."

"Good, then we have an understanding," Amelia shook her head, "is it that bad when I'm away?"

He gnawed at his lower lip. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like being alone."

"So you'd rather end up scattered along a battlefield with hundreds of other soldiers?" Amelia's tone was of an incredulous nature.

Beowulf looked away. "Sis, I don't belong here."

She held her gaze, although there was something unrecognizable shimmering in her eyes. "Are you not a Kadmus?"

"Am I?"

"Don't be flippant," she said absently, "I don't care about those old rumors, so you shouldn't."

The blond boy sighed. "I'm not you, Sis."

"Don't be flippant," her tone was hard now.

"'Flippant'? I'm being serious here," Beowulf quickly stood up, the force of which made the contents of his cup splash over the rim, "I'm not you. I'm not Mum. I don't understand why you defend her all the time, I don't understand why she should be defended. All I understand is that because I look like this, I'm always going to be treated as the 'bastard son of the Kadmus family'. Mum will always see me as that curse that made her husband go out to war and die, and I...no one cares if I'm hurt by that, or if I feel bad, or...

"Or if I've stopped caring."

His sister stared up at him, mouth forming soundless arguments. "B-Beowulf..."

"I give up, Sis. I can't stand it here any longer. If I'm going to be judged, I'd like it to be on something I can change, like my fighting and magic skill," he tried to smile, but it came out as a little grimace, "I'd rather die out there than hate myself for the rest of my life."

Amelia shook her head, clinging to her position in an almost futile manner. "I...but...you're only twelve!"

Brandy eyes, just now so full of righteous anger, softened. "I bet younger than that are dying out there right now."

He watched her face as it turned ashen and her eyes closed, then as she threw up her hands and opened her eyes, olive-stained orbs full of reluctance and barely checked desperation. "Little brother...this is what you really want?"

Once, twice he nodded.

She clutched the tablecloth with trembling hands, but her eyes were remarkably steady. "Then, you better have had signed the registration as 'Beowulf Kadmus'."

The blonde of the two smiled sadly. "As long as someone truly believes that, then that's who I am."

"And..." the older Kadmus sibling now had a determined look in her eyes, in her bearing as she loosened her grip on the white cloth, "don't you dare die."

-----

I think I like his big sister. As a big sister myself, I can truly appreciate her feelings. "It's a good thing you listened to her."

Beowulf looks at me, a strange emotion in his eyes. "It was a hard promise to keep."

-----

(Lesalia, May of Pantora 32)

It was becoming a desperate situation in eastern Lesalia.

Limberry and her formidable Seiten troops had fallen when the Imperial Army of Ivalice, a coalition force comprised of soldiers from the five major nations, retreated out of Ordalia after King Denamunda's death with the Ordalian army at their heels. The Ordalians now held a sizable base in northern Limberry while being bombarded with guerilla warfare everywhere else in that region, and were pushing their way into Zeltennia. While their main force had not succeeded in the invasion of Zeltennia yet, leaks in the Nanten defense were getting harder and harder to plug up, even under the leadership of Divine Knight Cidolfas Orlandu.

The only thing defending Lesalia from the Ordalians who managed to sneak through Zeltennia was the secondary front line at the borders of Lesalia and Zeltennia. While most of the best soldiers were being sent to the primary front line at Bethla Garrison, the expendable troops were sent to Doguola Pass and its general vicinity.

Twelve-year-old Beowulf Kadmus, rushed through the basics of sword fighting and survival in a few scant weeks, found himself at this no-man's land of hopelessness and death. A squire in leather armor torn off a fatally wounded soldier's body, he stood a good chance of the same happening to him. Standing among men and women his own age, lips cracked and bleeding due to the harsh eastward winds, the sword at his side making his walk uneven as the tip of the blade dragged against the dusty ground, he began to wonder if he would ever see his sister again.

The day soon came when the bells rang out throughout the makeshift fort and he was tugging on his armor in the same room as fifty other boys just like him. Noble, commoner...what did it matter?

Death never discriminates.

They all rushed outside their quarters, many with lopsided gaits and loose armor. The commanding officer, a Holy Knight from the Hokuten who was unfit to head to Bethla, ordered them to move out, to attack the menacing knights dressed uniformly in dark green who were heading towards them.

They did so, regrets weighing down their minds like their armor was weighing down their bodies.

Beowulf, lagging behind some older boys, wondered if he would ever see his sister again.

_I want to tell Sis how much I love her._

The two forces crashed down upon each other, one ragtag and inexperienced, the other elite but outnumbered. Shrill cries dashed through the tranquil day, amplified and drowned out simultaneously by the vicious winds.

With cracked lips trembling, he did the only thing he really could do.

_I don't want to be 'that worthless child' anymore!_

He knew how to do this. Focus magical energies until they're gathered to the best of his ability, then chant the words to transmute the dormant energies into an elemental spell to unleash at his enemies.

At least, that was how he had seen it done.

He concentrated on building his magical essence, gritting his teeth as a strange pressure began building in his head. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but all he could do was to tighten his grip on his loaned sword and try to move past the pain. He could hear his heartbeat within that pressure, and he focused on that steady beat.

All he could do was focus.

The sounds of the battlefield washed away as the rhythm of his heartbeat became dominant. The pain, the pressure began to lessen bit by bit until all he could feel was a faint tingling all over his body.

He had it. He could do this!

Brandy eyes opened, then widened as he noticed that his own side was being pushed back past him. In the ocean of this battle, he had just a few minutes before he would be swept away.

Beowulf was an avid swimmer. He knew what drowning felt like.

He looked around in barely-controlled fear, dumbly watching as people he had seen once or twice at the fort were being cut down before him.

A boy from Zeltennia who bragged about getting revenge and collecting Ordalian daggers fell, blue eyes wide and unseeing, his head barely attached to the rest of his body.

A golden-haired girl from Gallionne who didn't have any reason to go to war but did so anyway staggered blindly, clutching at a gaping wound in her stomach before a man twenty years her senior ran his sword through her. She died without a sound.

The same couldn't be said for countless others. The screams and moans of the wounded and dying threatened to break his concentration, but he pushed the sounds away just as he pushed down the rising bile in his throat.

The tide was rapidly approaching, but he knew that he didn't have the energy to even pull off a level two spell, not to talk of anything that would save his life. Angry winds howled past him, pushing him towards the brutal melee.

His eyes widened again. The wind...

Ignoring the insistent voice in the back of his mind that exclaimed that this would fail, he raised his arms. "Destruction of nature, gather into flame! Fire!" Dancing flames gathered, swirling around his upraised hands, then they flew upward into the blue skies.

Orange and reds jumped across a background of pale blue, weaving and unhinging like a sinuous snake before the winds crashed through them.

The flames fell.

Transformed from a mere boy's first spell into a veritable firestorm, streaks of fire lunging to the earth like an archer brigade's arrows and splattering across the ground. Due to the severity of the winds, the radius of the spell was more than anyone, much less Beowulf, could've ever hoped for, the direction completely in favor of the defenders with little chance of retaliation by the flames. The actual damage to the Ordalian soldiers was minimal, but it scattered the elite soldiers. Emboldened by this, the defenders of Ivalice's capital renewed their attack. Quickly enough the conflict was over, in favor of the recruits who once were resigned to the idea of dying as nameless squires on the battlefield.

As for Beowulf, he found out that he had a purpose. Due to his quick thinking and emergence of his magical ability, he had saved what was left of his troop.

He had saved himself.

_I won't die before telling Sis how much I love her..._

-----

That sounds really...intense. I've heard some war stories at Murond, but none of them have felt so...heavy to me. Here I am, wincing and twitching inwardly as he describes his first battle, trying not to show it or else I know he'll stop.

I want to listen to everything he has to say.

Raising my right hand from his chest, I lightly touch his face. Such a strong, masculine structure, both outside and inside... "You really are a brave person, Beowulf," even with his childhood, he still has such strength of character.

That part of him that I wanted to draw out and emulate...I wonder if I can find it in myself?

He looks at me, pursing his lips slightly before leaning in, lightly touching his lips against mine. I move my hand over and around his neck, pulling him in, but he quickly pulls back. "I'm not...not nearly as brave as you may think I am," and that's annoying to hear because I have my own opinion on that, "I'm not willing to fling myself into the heart of the fray. I like living."

Don't we all? "What about when that thief had stolen my valise?"

"That's what magic is for," he says lightly, "I'll cast however many spells I need to finish a battle, but throwing myself into battle isn't something I care for."

Is he trying to make my opinion of him go down? It's too bad for him that actions mean a lot more than his humble words. "What about yesterday, when you fought off those men and asked me to escape?"

He looks at me, the light of the full moon giving his eyes an ethereal glow. "And you came back and helped," something in his voice is tense. I don't know, but he sounds a bit annoyed...although I'm not sure because I've never heard him be annoyed. Well, not towards me.

"You're angry about that, aren't you? I'm sorry," I barely finish my sentence before he engulfs me in a deep hug, holding me tightly against him. I close my eyes and sink into him. If he's going to embrace me for no real reason, then I'll take full advantage of it.

The hourly bells ring loudly, but the sound is muffled because of Beowulf's embrace. Thank God. I treasure my hearing.

"I was surprised," his lips move against the left crook of my neck. I like the slightly tickling feeling, "I didn't expect you to come back. My first selfless act of bravery, and you came back to help me," he moves back, settling back into his former position, although his right hand is now in my lap. I place my hands on top of his, watching the smile on his face as the fingers of my left hand entwine with his, my right hand covering the back of his free hand, "but angry? Not at all."

Oh, that's good then. I can't exactly reverse what I've already done. "I wasn't sure."

"Reis, I don't think it's possible for me to ever get angry at you," he states that as if it were a fact. I hope he's right, "I think you're a lot braver than me."

I wouldn't really know, although I doubt it. "You're really humble."

Beowulf looks at me curiously. "Humble? Well, I guess that's better than being an arrogant ar...idiot," I smile and pretend that I didn't know that he switched the last word, although I don't know why he would. He probably just figured that I wouldn't know it. He's always so considerate, "I've met a lot of that sort while I was on duty at Doguola Pass, although that all changed once I was knighted..."

-----

(Lesalia, July of Pantora 36)

It was unbearably hot in his Lesalia Imperial Army knight uniform as he uncomfortably kneeled before the crown-appointed official. With an air of rushed dignity, the official tapped Beowulf on his right shoulder, then his left with a highly decorated but otherwise useless sword. "Rise, Sir Knight," he commanded hollowly, and the sixteen-year-old did so stiffly. Then the official moved to the next kneeling youth and repeated the same procedure.

There were just too many men and women eligible to be knighted all around war-torn Ivalice, and it simply wouldn't do to have sickly King Omdolia travel about the country to knight all of them. Besides, he hadn't found a queen yet, and his advisors were unwilling to have him possibly be assassinated without his producing an heir first.

The new commanding officer of Doguola Pass--his predecessor killed in a melee a year before--motioned for Beowulf to approach him. After a quick glance at the official, who was still tapping shoulders and droning the same sentence over and over, he silently walked over to the officer. "Yes, sir?" This was asked in as low a tone as possible, since for the last couple of years Beowulf had been dealing a sudden tendency for his voice to rise and lower at its own leisure.

"Kadmus, I've been noticing your performance in battle has steadily increased over the year I've been here," the officer, a longtime Holy Knight, cleared his throat, "and it has come to my attention that there is an elite troop around Bervenia that is currently seeking a knight with strong magical capabilities. Bethla cannot spare any, and the Hokuten are still reforming from their heavy losses during the retreat from Ordalia," to this, the recently knighted soldier nodded attentively. The bulk of the soldiers that made up the invading coalition into Ordalia had been Hokuten and Nanten elite, "and so I will be sending you to Bervenia."

Beowulf bowed his head, not intending the gesture in a respectful manner. Leave Lesalia? Completely? Even though Doguola Pass was far removed from the capital, he was still in his home region.

He was still in the same region as his sister.

He didn't like it one bit. However, he knew that when he joined the army, he had given up all his rights as a free citizen of Ivalice. And although his mother was of noble blood, the Kadmus lineage was very modest in comparison, so he couldn't use his name to get any sort of privileges.

Had it already been four years since he had last seen his sister?

How many more would he need?

How many more could he survive?

---

(Bervenia, December of Pantora 36)

It had been better than he thought it would be.

He had celebrated his seventeenth birthday here, in a city virtually untouched by war. He had celebrated it with his new troop, a specialized one with barely ten members in it at any given time. As such, it was an exceedingly close group, and Beowulf felt almost safe for once.

All nine of them sat outside the city, huddled around a low fire while sitting in freezing cold snow. That fact didn't get past the crimson-eyed youth as he blew into his hands, which had no effect because his hands were already in thick gloves. However, his breath deflected back into his face, and that meant that he could move his lips enough to talk. But he was happy enough to listen to the other members.

"Can you believe it? That damned Church--"

A thin man, about twenty-five years old, crossed his arms inside his large summoner's cloak, borrowed from another member. He was dressed as a monk. "Watch your mouth, Hagrid!"

"...Oh, right, forgot that yer an Ajora-lover, Tannin," Hagrid Lekor, a significantly warmer-looking Dark Knight hmphed loudly, and Tannin Emperosa turned a brilliant shade of red, "well, I can't believe that they wouldn't let us in just 'cause we didn't get there in time fer the curfew."

"I can't blame them," Alice Dresel, a summoner in white mage garb with no affiliations to the Church but all to the Touten of southern Lesalia, whispered while gripping a bottle of Fovoham vodka, "that's why Bervenia's so safe. If they seal themselves off like this, nobody would be willing to breach them."

"Sounds like a lot of white mages back home," Coronada Zorel muttered. He was a Holy Knight who defected from the Shrine Knights of Murond. Alice glared at him.

"You're so crude."

"That's what they said back home," he held out his hands, "I'm cold. Bottle," she sighed and gave him the bottle, and he took a grateful gulp of the liquor before passing it to his right, "here you go, cutie."

The 'cutie' in question grabbed the bottle and took several gulps before most of the others who hadn't had a drink of the warming alcohol, and several who already had, started vocalizing their complaints. "Oh, shush. I'm small, so I get cold faster."

"Salia, you mean you get drunk faster," Risele Mossanuich, a geomancer and the troop's resident archer, took the bottle away from the Fovoham monk and passed it to her right, dumping it into Beowulf's lap. Steeling himself, he picked up the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a large swig of the vodka. It seared horribly down his throat before deliciously burning his stomach, and he coughed from deep within his lungs.

Strawberry-blond Salia Lekoran leaned over Limberrian Risele, frowning at the red-faced knight. "Beo, are you okay? That's not a normal cough from drinking. If you have a cold I might have a potion here somewhere..." she reached behind her and started digging through her medicine bag.

"I'm fine, just still not used to drinking," he offered the bottle to the third special knight of the group, a quiet, devout Knight Blade named Jerrel Anda. The taciturn man took his required drink of the liquor and handed it to Correl Anda, his twin and a very warmly dressed time mage disguised as a ninja.

"If Kadmus is sick, I don't want his germs," he intoned through his face mask, passing the bottle to Hagrid. The Dark Knight, less concerned about such petty things like possible sickness, took his second swig of the night, "but, are we sleeping out here tonight?"

Beowulf coughed again, and Risele gave him a look as she addressed Correl. "Should we scale the walls? It doesn't seem like a good idea to break in," she gathered up her thick black hair and tied it into a ponytail, "after all, the Church is letting us use this town as our headquarters out of the kindness of...I'm not quite sure. But it wouldn't be advisable to defy their rules while we are stationed here."

"Don't like it much, but I'll agree ta that," Hagrid's voice held all the roughness a Zeltennian who had participated in many of the guerilla tactics in southern Limberry should, "anybody disagree?"

The twins, from Gallionne, looked at each other before shaking their heads. Tannin shook his head, long brown locks flying about before messily falling into his eyes. "Do you want me to take first watch then? I've got something I wanted to fix," before the Ordalians stormed down to Goug he had been a mechanic, helping his sister and brother-in-law make a weapon to help the army. After she died, he decided to take the fight to them.

It was a common story among these soldiers from all over Ivalice.

"Do what you like, though it is pretty dark," Holy Knight Coronada smirked, "I'll just cuddle up to Ali here and you can wake me for second shift," at her glare, he held up his hands in supplication, "gotta share body heat, you know?"

"Whatever you touch me with, I swear I'll bash it into the ground. I have a very nice staff."

He leaned in. "So do I."

"By Saint Ajora, you two!" Salia waved her hands in front of the bickering soldiers. "There's a cute fifteen-year-old innocent right next to you! And Beo might not want to hear that stuff either, right Beo?"

The resident Lesalian of the group slowly looked up, raggedly breathing. Everything looked blurry, and he was fairly sure it wasn't because of the alcohol. They always drank while trying to keep warm. "What stuff, Salia..."

The blurriness turned into nothingness, and he couldn't hear if she replied.

-----

My eyes widen and I tighten my grip on his hand. I don't know how he could say that so matter-of-factly! Last I've heard, coughing and fainting aren't signs of perfect health. "Reis...please don't look at me like that. I obviously didn't die or anything," he laughs and for a single moment I have an urge to do...to do...to do something not very nice. The urge mostly passes except for a lingering want, so I settle for crushing his hand some more.

"It's not funny," I insist, and his laughter fades into some misplaced chuckling. It's nice to see he's in such a good mood, "hearing that, I couldn't help but worry."

He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but it's all in the past now."

Is the past really so far away?

I sigh. "I can't help my feelings, so you'll have to forgive me for reacting as I do now."

"Reis..." I can feel his hand on my shoulder slowly caressing the bare skin of my upper arm, "thank you for caring."

Hm. "So what happened?"

"Oh, everybody in the troop went and barged into the city and took me into our residence. I woke up a week later and felt mostly fine, except for a sore throat," Beowulf shrugs like it really wasn't anything major, so I squeeze his hand one more time. He winces a bit at this, "that wasn't a good explanation, right?"

"You could easily die with a sickness," so don't make it sound as if your own life meant so little.

It means a lot...

"Hm," he looks at me thoughtfully, "they never would've let that happen. I really felt like I could place my life into their hands at any time."

It must be nice to trust so deeply like that. I feel envious... "I don't exactly understand what you did with them."

"Basically, we were there to trip up the Ordalians. We were mostly independent of the greater army gathering in Bethla, or of the smaller 'Tens..." he trails off at my confused look, "Hokuten, Nanten, Touten, and Seiten," ah, he's so perceptive, "and we would often help the resistance in southern Limberry. The Elmdor, til Mesoriel, Mossanuich, Sadalfas...well, not really the Sadalfas family, but most of the nobility were very generous in helping us. Then the Ordalians started pushing back, and it just degenerated into a massacre..."

I squeeze his hand, softly this time, and he looks into my eyes with the most peculiar look I have ever witnessed. It's like...he was looking so depressed, but then he brightened up when he saw me, but he was still clinging on to the depression...I think I've confused myself.

It hurts to be looked at like that, I know that much.

"But that's a bit later," he sounds a bit unsteady, "before then, we accepted a new member into our group."

-----

(Bervenia, September of Pantora 37)

Beowulf sat in the sitting room of the residence of his troop, muttering incoherently as he tried to smooth away the nicks in his sword. During their last confrontation with the Ordalians, which took place in a blacksmithing district in Limberry taken over by the invaders, Tannin had ordered everyone carrying swords to destroy any Romandan-imported machinery there. Still, the knight mused as he swept up his long light bangs out of his eyes, at least his sword didn't completely break like Hagrid's. He had heard a fair amount of curse words since he left the Kadmus manor, but he'd never heard of those particular ones.

"Oh, Beo! Just who I was looking for," Salia grinned as she walked into the large room, "you're coming with me to meet the new recruit!"

He didn't know that. "Where is everyone else?"

"Um..." she crossed her arms over her dress, a modest style popular in Bervenia, "Hagrid made Tannin go with him to buy a new sword, Ali and the twins went shopping for supplies, and Coronada and Risele are talking with some of the priests at the church."

"Okay then," Beowulf paused, "do you know who the new recruit is?"

"Not a clue."

"Where are we supposed to meet this person?"

"Ah...at the bar!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Who planned that?"

"You wouldn't be insinuating something, would you Beo?" Salia tossed back her head, short strands of reddish-blond hair barely touching her shoulders. He sighed and set down his sword, quietly following the extroverted girl to the bar down the road from their house. It was empty, save for the bartender cleaning out a glass and a couple men scattered about.

"Do we have any information about this recruit at all?" Beowulf asked over a mug of freshly brewed Gallionne lager. No matter how war-torn Ivalice was becoming, the breweries were working fine. It was every other food-related business that was suffering.

"Of course not! That would take out all the fun in it," Salia cooed, a shot of Fovoham whiskey quickly racing down her throat, "nothing like drinks from home!" As one of the few people of their troop who actually seemed to suffer from hangovers--or at least learn from them--the brandy-eyed man chose not to comment. Instead he sipped from his mug, wished that bars served tea, then sipped some more. The two sat in companionable silence, drinking and enjoying the warm late summer afternoon.

A blond man walked into the bar, cautiously looking around. "Salia, look over at the door. I think that's--"

"You..." Beowulf watched as the normally loud monk stumbled out of her seat and walking over to the man, who had noticed the tipsy girl heading in his direction, "is it really you...?"

The man offered her a small grin. "Miluda really misses you, Salia."

"Wiegraf!" Salia had never been reserved for as long as Beowulf had known her, but he gaped as she leaped into the young man's arms, then blushed as he noticed that the young man--this Wiegraf--was hugging her back. Everyone in the bar was watching the two make a spectacle out of themselves, so the young Lesalian merely turned back to his lager and started gulping it down, then unsteadily rose out his seat and walked over to the two.

"Um, could you two not do that here?"

The two disentangled themselves from each other. "Sorry, I haven't seen her in years," Wiegraf said, sticking out his hand towards Beowulf, "I'm Wiegraf Folles, sixteen years old, transferred from Fovoham."

"Beowulf Kadmus, seventeen. Nice to meet you," he looked around, "shall we go back?"

Salia grabbed the new recruit's arm and started hauling him towards the door. "How long has it been, Wiegraf? How's Miluda? Oh, I can't wait to introduce you to everyone!"

-----

"This Salia seems very...lively," I observe. Peppermint was often like that too...well, except a bit more toned down. It must be something about Fovoham.

"She was one of the few people I knew that were truly happy, even when she wasn't drunk," Beowulf smiles faintly, "she was a nice girl."

I tilt my head slightly. "What was she to Wiegraf?"

"Oh, a childhood friend," he looks away from me, out into the moonlit night. I follow his gaze, my eyes hitting upon Bariaus Hill. Ah... "apparently she used to care for his younger sister."

"Hm," this Wiegraf...he seems to be the first person I've heard of that has a younger sister, instead of him having an older sister, "was Wiegraf an asset to your troop?"

Slowly he begins to nod. "He was different," he turns back to me, color-drained eyes looking faintly tired. We've probably been out here too long, but it really doesn't feel like it, "he was definitely someone who always aspired for more."

-----

(Limberry, June of Pantora 38)

In the night sky stars merrily twinkled, their collective light unhindered because of the absence of the moon. A warm breeze from the south swept past the two men sitting outside a sizable camp, tousling through shades of gold and wheat, causing locks of hair to fall into their eyes. The older of the two swept his bangs back from his eyes with a gauntleted hand, tensely staring out into the distance. His right hand was on the hilt of the sword at his hip. If all went well tonight, there would be no need for him to draw his sword. But if the members of his troop and of the guerilla fighters should fail...

Beowulf Kadmus hated being backup. His nerves were frayed enough as is.

The other man sighed loudly, startling the magic knight. "I wish I were with them," Wiegraf said tightly, wringing his metal-covered hands, "or I wish that this had a better plan behind it."

The plan--always a misnomer considering the amount of improvisation that went into their attacks--was a simple one: infiltrate the ancestral home of the Sadalfas family, which had been seized by both the rebels when the patriarch was considered a traitor, then by the Ordalians when they started moving south. The family, consisting of the son of the traitor, his wife and their three-year-old son, stayed briefly to detail the floor plan of the house, then left on a carriage heading deeper into Limberry, to Ruofons.

As far as Beowulf knew, there wasn't any real reason to attack the manor, as it was a small place that couldn't house enough soldiers to mount any sort of attack. But the Limberry offensive, which contained a sizable portion of Seiten as well as ordinary townspeople from all walks of life, seemed to disagree heavily with that logic. It was the principle behind the attack that mattered. Each piece of Limberry that was snatched up dug into their hearts just a little bit deeper each time.

Privately, the Lesalian knight disagreed with his partner. The plan was fine, and he really didn't want to be with them. He wanted to see his eighteenth birthday. "You don't like backup?"

"I just..." Wiegraf sighed again, "how can I prove my worth if I'm stuck here, guarding a base?"

Beowulf paused, glancing at the younger man. "Worth? If you've lived this long in war, I would think that you've proved it just fine."

"Not for myself as a person, but...nevermind. You wouldn't understand."

Of course not, Beowulf thought in annoyance, it's hard to understand without an explanation. "We've got the time."

The golden-brown haired man made a sound in the back of his throat. "You're a noble, so it's probably hard to understand, but I want to prove that so-called 'commoners' are worth just as much as 'nobles'," he lowered his head, "I want to tear down that wall, I want to show that the only distinctions that are there are the ones we place in our own minds."

"That sounds like a long battle," crimson eyes returned to staring out at the distance, "are you really up to it?"

"I'm sure of it. All I need are like-minded people, honorable people who could fight to the death for their beliefs," the younger male's hazel eyes looked upward into the star-filled night, "if I don't do it, who will?"

-----

I'm listening attentively. This Wiegraf seems to have a strong sense of self--

--dingdingDONGdingding--

I grit my teeth. Beowulf, his mouth slightly open as if he's about to say something, looks at me questioningly, but I shake my head.

He knows that I have sensitive hearing, but for him to know how sensitive...wouldn't that make me look weird?

-----

(Bervenia, October of Pantora 38)

Nineteen-year-old Beowulf Kadmus knelt before another crown-appointed official, this one tapping him on the shoulders with a real sword, less decorated but more useful. "Rise, Sir Knight," the official gravely intoned and he did so, resplendent in the Holy Knight uniform of Lesalia's Imperial Army. The dark blue of the cloth contrasted his crimson eyes, but also complimented his light blond hair. He stood tall, taller than the official.

He made for an imposing sight.

Too bad he was such a hesitant knight.

A priest from Bervenia's church moved towards the re-knighted young man, moving his hands in the form of the holy prayer of Saint Ajora, mumbling the Lord's prayer. "And may the Lord bless your path, imbuing your sword with the righteousness of Heaven. Farlem."

Holy Knight Beowulf lowered his head in solemn acceptance.

The humble ceremony now over, he softly padded his way out of the nave of the exquisite church, the metal of his armor clinking and clanging as he walked along the red carpet through the middle of the large room. Pushing open the wide doors of the church, he stepped out into the unusually sunny fall day. "How'd it go?" A deep voice sounded to his left.

"It went well," Beowulf turned and faced a smiling Wiegraf, Salia at his side, "where's everybody else?"

"Around, y'know?" Salia smiled tensely. The two seventeen-year-olds looked at each other for a long moment. "Actually, we wanted to talk to you alone, so we told everyone that we'd meet them at home."

For a moment, Beowulf could hear his sister tell him that honesty was always the best policy, and a sudden need to see her trembled through him. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, Salia and I were talking about my dream," Wiegraf started, looking slightly uncomfortable, "and we think that we can pull it off."

The strawberry-blonde nodded eagerly. "Definitely, for sure!"

"But, like I told you, I need people who are willing to help. Good, dependable, honorable people."

"Ali already agreed!"

"Someone like you, with your skills...what I'm trying to say is...join us, Beowulf."

"You won't regret it!"

Beowulf blinked. The contrast between the serious knight and the hyperactive monk momentarily stunned him. But even he noticed that the other man had said nothing of his beliefs. "I thought you were looking for people who also held your beliefs as well," he said quietly.

"But don't you believe that there isn't a distinction between nobles and commoners, Beo?" Salia looked up at him imploringly.

Of course he did. Truth be told, he never really even noticed. He had been away from his home and the mores of upper-class Lesalian society for over six years now. "Yes, I do, but..."

He didn't believe in it enough to die for it.

War was an escape for him, his only option out of a household with a mother that didn't care enough to notice him, but more than enough to blame him for everything. But fighting as a means for someone else's end...

"But what?" Wiegraf asked calmly.

He didn't want to travel that road, even with people he considered surrogate relatives. "I think it's best if you ask someone else," soft tones threading through his baritone voice served to declare his true answer.

_No_.

The only girl of the group looked down. "But why, Beo? We thought you'd be perfect. You're not a cold noble who looks down on us. You fight with us, you strove to understand us...why not fight with us all the way?"

"Because..." he took a deep breath, "I fight with you, and understand you, that's true. But I've never thought, 'I want to understand commoners as a whole, or fight with them.' I choose to ignore those labels, because they don't matter to me."

Ignoring the labels instead of fighting against them at every turn...a peaceful solution.

But...wasn't that what his mother tried to do to him? If she ignored his existence long enough, maybe he would cease to exist.

If he wanted to exist, then shouldn't the societal ideals of the time be allowed to do the same?

Beowulf felt like a hypocrite.

"That's stupid! If something doesn't affect you then that's okay, is that what you mean?" Salia glared at him through watery brown eyes. "You really are like every other noble, aren't you?"

"Salia," her childhood friend said warningly before regarding the Lesalian, "we must respect Beowulf's decision, no matter the reason behind it," he nodded once at the older man, "I'm disappointed, but thank you for not dismissing us outright."

Guilt built up inside Beowulf. The guilt from not accepting Wiegraf's invitation. The guilt from not caring about their mission enough. The guilt from hurting their feelings.

The guilt from not being brave enough to join them.

-----

There is an odd emotion shimmering in Beowulf's dark eyes, raw and throbbing and hurting me so much to view it.

Shame. Guilt. Pain.

I would run out of words before I could touch the core of that emotion.

"I don't believe it," my voice is wavering and weak, but I don't care if he hears that from me.

I see much worse...I feel much worse from him.

This is your secret shame, Beowulf? I want to say that it's not you, it's because of your so-called mother, your lacking childhood, the horrors you've faced repeatedly since you were twelve. I want to say that it's all of those things.

But it's still you, in the end.

It isn't just a secret shame...this is him. The essential Beowulf, the reason why he's so learned in magic but

--_...it's just too bad his swordplay is horrendous_--

The reason why he left for war in the first place...

He's willing to run to the lesser pain in order to save himself from agony.

But...how is that different from anyone else?

Because he can admit this to me, to himself...I admire him so much more because of it.

"Beowulf, you're wonderful," I smile up at him, "you're truly courageous."

He stares at me, blinking a few times before slowly opening his mouth. "R-Reis? What are you...are you sure you're listening to me?"

"I can hear you perfectly fine," squeezing his hand in mine, there's a little flutter in my chest when he tenderly returns the affection, "but the fact that you can admit that you're not willing to jump when someone tells you to, that you're not willing to submit yourself to the concept of bravery...doesn't that make you better in a way, because you understand yourself?"

--_Everybody runs...there's no one in the world who can claim otherwise_--

I guess it's how you run that really matters.

"Reis..." he whispers, and I blush because of the way he said my name...like it really means something, "beautiful, exquisite, _wonderful_ Reis," he pulls me towards him, and I close my eyes and snuggle up against his chest, "I love you so much," he murmurs into my ear.

I can...I can say the same thing, can't I?

"Beowulf...I...you're...

_the one I care for the most_

I really..."

God, why can't I say those words back?

"Don't worry about it, Reis," his voice is low, a wonderful melody, but I still...it's frustrating, "I don't know why you even care enough to understand me. However you feel about me I'll gladly accept."

...Still, I don't like this one-way situation. "So, you didn't join Wiegraf, but how did you get involved with the Church?"

"Hm," his voice is back to his normal cheerfulness, and I hope that it'll stay like that from now on, "that's something I'll always remember..."

-----

(Bervenia, August of Pantora 41)

The situation outside the walls of Ajora's hometown was nothing short of horrendous.

All the struggles of the special troop and the Limberry rebellion were petty, wasted efforts in the end. Eventually the Ordalian presence became too much, and they simply rolled over the once formidable opposition. Limberry was completely occupied, as was much of Zeltennia. The Nanten had retreated to Bethla Garrison, although it was said that newly-knighted Holy Swordsman Cidolfas Orlandu wouldn't budge from Zeltennia Castle until his close friend, fellow Holy Swordsman Balbanes Beoulve, had literally dragged the 'Thunder God' out of the castle.

The next day the castle fell.

Bervenia was safe, for the time being. It was said that the Church had 'convinced' the Ordalians that there was no need to invade either Bervenia or the Lionel region. The pious claimed that the heathen invaders realized the strength of Saint Ajora and the Shrine Knights. The cynical merely rolled their eyes and pointed out how the church coffers seemed to be literally pouring gold out of the Church-owned communities.

Their heads rolled soon after.

Holy Knight Beowulf Kadmus didn't have an opinion; that is, he really didn't care what the Church was doing. For his part, he was helping the townspeople, dispatching the odd monster that tried to force its way into the town, and coordinating efforts between what was left of his old troop and a few resistance groups. The way things were going, he knew that he would be ordered to go to Bethla soon.

He didn't want to go to Bethla.

He was selfish. He wanted to see his twenty-second birthday.

Sometimes he wondered if it would've been better to have followed Wiegraf, who had left the year before. He had taken Salia Lekoran and Alice Dresel with him to start his 'Knights of Death'. Beowulf truly wished him the best, but didn't have any strong feelings otherwise.

He often wondered what he could do next. Being transferred to Bethla seemed to be the foregone conclusion, but he didn't like that. Staying in Bervenia was like not living at all, not with all the duties he had in the town. The should've, would've, could've's were piling up.

He wanted to be helpful and be safe at the same time.

Was that really possible in his war-ravaged country?

It didn't seem so until the day the carriage drawn by yellow chocobos came into town.

That day the young Holy Knight was heading to the front of the town, ready to head out to hunt down a chimera said to be snatching up pilgrims on their way to Bervenia. It was also said to be extremely vulnerable to magic, so he figured that he would be home by the sun's setting.

The black carriage rolled through the gate as Beowulf was walking to it, inconveniently stopping there and blocking the entrance completely. The Knight Blade who was driving the carriage hopped off his seat and rushed over to the side door, opening it with a grand flourish. Uninterested but patient, Beowulf waited for the Knight Blade to move the carriage.

A man, middle-aged and looking every bit of his years, walked out of the carriage. He murmured a few words to the Knight Blade, who then hurried back to the driver's seat in his Shrine Knight armor and moved the carriage. While this went on, the man started walking away. He passed by the blonde knight, then paused and turned around. With instincts finely honed on the battlefield, Beowulf knew that he was being stared at and politely ignored the man. "Excuse me, young man?"

The young man in question blinked, then turned around. "Yes..." he quickly looked at the older man's robes, "Examiner?"

The heresy examiner nodded. "You wouldn't happen to be the 'Magic Knight' of the troop stationed here, would you?"

'Magic Knight'...Beowulf had heard that a few times. He certainly used magic more than the average knight. "I believe that would be me," although the troop referred to was no longer existing as it used to.

"What is your name, Magic Knight?"

"Beowulf Kadmus."

"It's a bit odd for a young man in a physical class like a Holy Knight to be using magic, especially enough to garner a reputation for it, don't you think?"

The obvious--truthful--answer, 'I like living,' simply wouldn't do. "I don't think so," Beowulf said slowly, "there have been many times that it was simply more prudent to use magic, and it's always a smart thing to be proficient in more than one skill." This would almost be truthful had he bothered to learn break skills when he was a knight. At least he had an excuse not to learn the Holy Knight skill set, as he hadn't actually been in the midst of battle all that often since he became a Holy Knight.

Hemming and hawing at this for a minute, the heretic examiner slowly nodded. "Wisdom beyond your years, my boy. Tell me, what do you think of this: 'Temple means shrine. It's also the upper part of the face.'"

The brandy-eyed knight smiled at this. That actually sounded really clever. "I'd say that means that intelligence and religion are closely linked, among other things."

"I see...I think you would be a fine candidate for training, then."

"Excuse me?"

"I'd like you to undergo training as a Temple Knight of the Glabados Church. Should you successfully complete the training, I'll gladly accept you into the Order of the Lionel Holy Knights."

Suddenly--finally--Beowulf Kadmus had an idea of what he could do.

In this order, he could be useful.

After the first attempt, nearly a decade ago, Lionel had never been breached by war again.

-----

Once, I read an opinionated piece that stated this: 'Puns are the lowest form of humor.'

Now I understand why.

"Ah...that line about temples meaning 'shrine' and the upper part of the face...you really thought that was...clever?" I mumble to one of the buttons along his uniform.

"Mm-hm," he sounds happy, "there are so many nuances in that simple line. To be a Temple Knight means to be proficient in magic, and to use magic one has to be intelligent, so..."

"...Reis?" Beowulf pulls away from me and I quickly put on my 'blank' expression, which I'm sure he'd appreciate more than my 'bored' look.

Even if I truly want to understand you...maybe some things are best left alone.

"So, well..." I look down at my lap and run the fingers of my right hand along the back of his hand, "did you ever get to see your sister after you left for the war?"

He continues to look at me for a moment before slowly nodding his head. "Right before I left for training, I was allowed to travel to Lesalia."

-----

(Lesalia, September of Pantora 41)

Beowulf Kadmus stood in front of his childhood home and wondered where the years went.

Nostalgia painted the manor as pristine white with blue shutters and neatly trimmed flowers hedging around it. Reality sloshed over that picture, killing off the pretty flowers and chipping away at the paint. It was still standing and it didn't look so bad, but...

"Master Beowulf?"

He turned around quickly and found himself staring at an old lady with a stooped over figure and harsh features and-- "Matron Leeza?"

"So, you haven't forgotten all of us," she sounded put out and that worried the Kadmus son, "well, come inside, your sister should be done putting the children down for their naps."

"Children?" He blurted out. Had it really been that long?

"Of course children. Your sister's been married for seven years now, I'd hope that something came out of that union..." Leeza hobbled towards the front door then turned around, looking distinctly annoyed, "come on boy, she's been waiting ten years to see you, stop gaping like that!"

Quickly he hurried over to the door and stepped inside. His sister's elderly chambermaid motioned for him to wait in the sitting room and he obediently did so, feeling uncomfortably cramped in his seat. He was dressed in his Holy Knight uniform, and he suddenly realized that his sister wouldn't want to see him as a soldier. But he was already here, and she would be happy for that much.

"Oh, Leeza, what's all this about? I'm not even halfway ready for visitors..."

"Trust me, child, this one won't care."

"What's with all the secrecy..."

Beowulf stood as his sister and her chambermaid walked into the room. Amelia looked ten years older, maturity edging over her flashy green eyes and dampening her lively spirit. Her dress hid well the belly that developed from pregnancy, and her hair was neatly drawn into a bun.

This was her, the sister he had longed for during the middle of the night, when his dreams were edged with blood and shrill cries. The sister who he wished for when he looked down into a mug of beer and simply wanted a cup of tea and some candies. The sister he admired for her strength when he had to comfort hysterical women when the rumors of invasion inevitably started up again. This was that sister.

This was his sister.

"Sis..." he started, before she stiffly walked up to him and slapped him across his face.

"You may _not_ come here now, in that knight uniform, after over ten years and expect me to fling myself into your arms," her words were tinged with real anger, "where were you when I wrote to you to come home last year? Where?"

His face stinging and already feeling guilty for a reason he wasn't sure of, he tried to concentrate on her words. "You wrote to me? I didn't get any letters."

"I wrote," she intoned darkly, "I made it very clear that you were to come back immediately. I even used Mum's family name."

"Why did you do that?"

"For Mum's funeral."

Suddenly, his face didn't hurt so much anymore. "She's...dead?"

"Yes," Amelia closed her eyes, the pain clearly showing on her face, "it was the plague."

"I...I see," he lowered his head, "I'm sorry I didn't come."

She studied him for a moment. "Would you have?"

He thought about that. The mother who ignored and hated him had died. He had heard about what the plague did to people, and thought about the painful death that she must've suffered. He honestly thought about it, about the time they had met in the hallway and she talked to her dead husband rather than him. About how much agony she would've gone through while the plague raged through her body, leaving scores of bulbous sores in its wake.

He thought.

"I don't know."

Amelia nodded at this. "You always were so ambivalent about things. Only when you truly wanted to do something would you actually act. That's why you left, and now you're here again," she paused, sighing deeply, "you used to reach up to my chin, and now I don't even reach up to yours. And you sound like a man, and you look like a man, and...you won't be staying very long, will you?"

Beowulf closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sis."

"No, you're not. I've seen you be truly sorry, and this isn't it. So where are you off to? The front line?" Her voice was sunken in despair.

"No, to the Eastern Lands," he smiled encouragingly as she stared at him in surprise, "I'm training to be a Temple Knight, and when I'm done I'll be stationed in Lionel."

Looking away, her furrowed brows revealed her confusion. "Lionel? Church-owned Lionel? Are you religious now, little brother?"

Finally, finally she had used one of her familiar names. He smiled widely and truthfully now. "No, but I think it's a good opportunity."

"...Beowulf," she looked up at him, eyes shimmering with tears, "you'll keep living, right?"

He kept his first promise, he was sure he could keep this one. "Of course, Sis."

-----

"And you're keeping your promise," I nod to myself, "you're a good little brother."

"I try," he sounds a bit proud about that, "I became a Temple Knight about a month before my twenty-fifth birthday, then Examiner Draclau immediately transferred me to Lionel, at first for just hunting down so-called heretics, then he started having me learn about all the work that goes behind keeping the Lionel Holy Knights going," he pauses, "then he left, and then I met you."

That's awfully condensed. "Are you happy? I mean, with the life you've lived up until now..."

"I'm satisfied, now moreso than before," he grins at me, teeth glowing white in the bluish-gray night, "and I guess that my life will only get better and better."

I hope so.

Now, more than ever, things are looking up. I can enjoy looking at the past. I can live life in the present. Everything's really okay for once.

Smiling up at Beowulf, I can feel it as he gently squeezes my hand and a little flutter rises up in my chest again.

My memories are so important to me.

Good, bad, I'll cherish them equally.

Let's keep making memories together, Beowulf...

-End to chapter 14-

This chapter is the length of almost two chapters, or the length of three or so of the earlier chapters. Reis' memory chapter, believe me, won't be this monstrous...

Just a few notes out of order...

- 'Temple means shrine...' The first time I read that line, I was stunned. I swear it surpasses bad translation and Engrish and goes into a new category altogether, quite possibly the same one as Ashton's (Star Ocean 2) barrel fetish. Very '...'-ish.

-If it weren't for Beowulf's low-ish brave (45), I wouldn't have half this chapter. Actually, I wouldn't have most of this chapter. Thank you Square for giving me a knight with low brave...

-I know I'm off on the war timeline. I KNOW. I am very sad about it, too.

-I know that I'm not as skilled with writing in 3rd person. You'll have to forgive me, but I like writing the memories like this. Since no one complained about chapter 3, you just get to suffer through the format in this and Reis' memory chapter.

Reviewers!

Luna-chan, let me just throw some more wood into the fire about Verden...who says he's not already in love with Reis? Anyway, here is Beowulf's past, in improved Shidareyanagi/Tsuki no Dankai-format. Hopefully it's worth your impatience!  
On the topic of plot creatures, all I have is a plot angel. Every once in a while she thwaps me with a heavy idea and expects me to use it. If I don't use it immediately, she makes me lug it around for a long time before I can.

Hey, Mavina. It's so nice to see a character get hated and another one liked by sheer willpower. I wonder if I could make him liked again, even if it's just for a bit...  
Yes, my mom's cooking is like that, but only with American dishes. I am not looking forward to Thanksgiving. --; I hope that you like this chapter, and as for Reis' chapter...ah, how many more chapters until that, anyway... ;

Star Eevee...hm. I hope I don't sound mean saying this, but...I'd really rather you had emailed me that instead of non-reviewing. I mean, I understand that you're not an every-chapter reviewer like the two above this note, and it's perfectly fine. I really prefer quality over quantity when I receive a review, and if that means less reviews per chapter, I'm fine with that. I hope that your problems get cleared up as quickly as possible, I understand completely how emotional problems get in the way of, well, happier, more interesting things. If you ever feel like talking, feel free to email me, okay?

Thank you for reading! Reviewer or non-reviewer, I'm happy that you slogged your way through this chapter!

Chapter 15: Layering (_Cherche Duet_): 'I wish Peppermint had taught me...how do you realize you're in love?'


	15. 15: Layering

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own any of the characters or locations in this work, Square-Enix does.

_Well, you know, if you mistake lust for love, you're in big trouble. Always, always someone's feelings get hurt. But...if you mistake love for lust, you just might have some major trust issues._  
Peppermint's Lesson #1  
  
Chapter 15: Layering (_Cherche Duet_)  
  
Good afternoon, Miss Reis!  
  
I turn around in the crowded marketplace, feeling the humid July air warp around my body. It's a good thing that I'm wearing such a breezy long dress. I don't want the cloth sticking to me. A smile tugs on the corners of my lips as soon as I see Chiroseau before me. He's wearing his uniform, so he must be on patrol. Good afternoon, Sir Chiroseau. How are you doing?  
  
He smiles widely, dark blue eyes twinkling merrily. I've been doing fine, child. I've been wondering how you've been, though.  
  
Why's that? I've been okay. I'm just enjoying my lunch break right now.  
  
I see, I see, he looks around before his eyes settle on me again, would you indulge an old man and sit with me for a while?  
  
Old man'? You don't look that old to me, then again, I did think that Beowulf was around my age, not six years my senior. Ages are so hard to figure out... I'd guess that you were just a bit over forty, I follow him to a bench off to the side of the road and we sit down and watch the housewives and their children scurry along.  
  
You'd be correct, although most days I feel ten years older, I notice that he sits perfectly straight and I feel bad that I'm slouching, so I hurriedly straighten up just as he looks over at me, you understand, right?  
  
About feeling older? Nowadays--usually when I'm with Beowulf--I feel like a little kid all over again. I suppose so.  
  
He raises his hand and drags his fingers through his graying black hair. Kadmus is taking a big risk. I heard he asked you to that ball at the end of the month.  
  
I blink at the change in subjects. Well, that is...  
  
_We're at Bariaus Valley, propped against a tree and watching the stars glimmer weakly in the waning moon's light. Beowulf's arm is around my shoulders, calloused fingers lightly caressing the bare skin of my upper arm. My head is on his shoulder, hands in my lap and eyes dimly staring out at the vastness of the night.  
  
It's such a beautiful night.  
  
His lips brush against my earlobe, and I smile awkwardly as a strange tingle courses through me. That's been happening a lot lately. I hope it happens more often. the single-syllable sound of my name is pushed out past his lips and into my ear. I can't help but blush. Do that again... I've wanted to ask you something for a while now.  
  
Oh...   
  
His fingers stop their rhythmic movement. I haven't asked it yet, I close my eyes and sink into the slightly husky quality of his amused murmur, do you remember when I told you about the annual ball held in Lionel Castle?  
  
It's hard to think. I think so, I say slowly...  
  
--_She's also performing at the annual ball that the nobles hold in this town...it's in late July_--  
  
...I remember. What about it?  
  
Normally, all of us in this town would be on duty that night, what with all those nobles in one place and all, but everybody thought it would be a good idea if I actually went to the ball this year, so... I am focusing on his words. Truly I am. But the humming quality within his low whispers is almost mesmerizing, would you like to go?  
  
...Is it my turn to talk now? I feel like drifting...  
  
He pulls away from me and I open my eyes partially at this disturbance. Reis, are you tired? I guess we should go back, he's not whispering in my ear anymore...well, it was good while it lasted.  
  
I place my right hand on his knee and look over at him with half-lidded eyes. I guess this means I should make a dress, right?  
  
he smiles, I can't wait to see you in it._  
  
I lower my head from Chiroseau's faintly concerned expression. I guess that's something we'll deal with when the time comes.  
  
Truthfully, I'm more worried about you rather than Kadmus, patting my shoulder, he smiles a little oddly when I look up at him, Buremonda won't be happy if word should get back to him about the gorgeous, tall woman in the unique dress hanging onto Sir Kadmus' arm'.  
  
Well, I don't know about that. That could be a lot of women...  
  
Right?  
  
Chiroseau stares at me. I've lived here for nearly six years now, so I know nearly everybody here. Gorgeous' and tall' aren't words that can be used to describe any woman in this town, I frown a bit. Doesn't he think he's being a little mean there? Miss Reis, there are a lot of pretty women here, but I can count the number of women that are as tall as a man using both hands, and a couple of them are white mages.  
  
Oh. Of course.  
  
So, that means that he'd immediately start checking to see where those white mages were that night, as well as myself... that's annoying. Other than the occasional visit to a restaurant, Beowulf and I never do anything in public sight. That's not a bad thing, but I really would've liked to see what a ball' is like...  
  
Theoretically, he wouldn't even have to, he looks out at the people filling the streets, I'll give that priest some credit when it comes to his intelligence. Has he seen you wear one of your more unique clothes?  
  
Has Verden? I'm not sure...  
  
--_You look like an adventurer_--  
  
...I...yes. This really isn't my lucky day. Yes, unfortunately.  
  
Chiroseau glances at me, worry deep in his eyes, is this a risk you're willing to take?  
  
--_I want to be with you, and he can't do anything to me anyway...and I don't think that he would do anything to you, either_--  
  
Beowulf...when you said that, were you just trying to comfort me, or did you really mean it?  
  
I want to believe in your words.  
  
Slowly, confidently I look into Chiroseau's eyes. I told him   
  
The worry still glimmers in his eyes, and I'm suddenly sorry that I'm making him feel this way. You're a woman who keeps to her path, he says, pain coursing through his words, Kadmus is lucky to have someone like you.  
  
I don't understand the pain in his words...why does he sound like that?  
  
The agony, something that lies deep inside...  
  
--_She's...gone..._--  
  
Something he once told me months ago...  
  
--_When you meet and quickly marry without completely knowing your partner, then leave for the war, well..._--  
  
I lower my head. That's right...his wife, who didn't die but still left...she didn't keep to her path at all.  
  
Beowulf's mother...Chiroseau's wife. Women who leave either emotionally or physically because their husbands are gone...is this a consequence of war?  
  
I wonder...  
  
Looking at Chiroseau like this, having looked at Beowulf...women and men really have such a strong effect on each other. The effect we have on each other...  
  
We all wield it so horribly, as if there were no consequences.  
  
I'm sorry, Sir Chiroseau, I look at him, his pain, and I suddenly have a strange urge to...hm, I'm not sure, but it's throbbing in my throat, it's your wife...you're thinking about your wife, right?  
  
He makes an affirmative sound. It's been about seven years since I received the letter from Thandi, the nanny, saying that Aliana had left, taking all her possessions with her. She left the children, and I thank God for that every day, dark eyes narrowing, he looks up into the bright blue sky, at least I know where they are so I can visit them once a year.  
  
Wouldn't a father want to be with his children for longer than that? Why aren't you with them year-round?  
  
The Church won't let me, he says candidly, they transferred me from Bervenia to Murond--where I received the letter--then to Lionel to be Lionel castle town's commander.  
  
I frown. I thought that Beowulf is the leader of the Lionel Holy Knights...?  
  
He is, Chiroseau clarifies, for the entire sect in Lionel. I'm just the head for the knights stationed in this town, just like there's one in Zaland, Goug and Warjilis. It's a tiered system.  
  
Okay, so if Beowulf's the leader of the whole military sect in Lionel and he's only twenty-seven, and Chiroseau's the head of the knights in this town at his forties...um... Isn't Beowulf _really_ young for his job, then?  
  
He looks over at me, a slight smile on his face. A bit, but I'd say that he was Examiner Draclau's best decision.  
  
Hm. Do you think it's strange though?  
  
he seems a bit hesitant, I'll admit that it's odd to walk into his office and see him happily munching on candy, because that reminds me too much of my son snacking just before supper, but other than that he's qualified.  
  
I sigh. Beowulf and sweets...I'll never understand it. And everyone shares your viewpoint?  
  
Miss Reis, I look at his comforting smile, on our end, we'll do whatever we can to make sure that Kadmus doesn't get into any trouble with Buremonda, but are the white mages as solidly on your side?  
  
Well...no. Actually, they still seem to hate or dislike me greatly. Peppermint was my only friend among them... Not at all, but I don't care.  
  
If you say so, he says gently, but it's always a good idea to make friends, just in case.  
  
Ah. I'll try to keep that in mind. Thank you.  
  
He nods absently, going back to looking into the crowd. I do the same, watching mothers and daughters carry baskets filled with food to cook for tonight's supper.  
  
It must be nice to have a family to go back to and cook for...  
  
--_Mama, can I help tonight?_--  
  
It is nice...  
  
--_Of course you can, Reis darling. Here, you can start by cutting these roots..._--  
  
I miss it.  
  
As much as I like to go out to restaurants with Beowulf and have a meal made to my specifications, it's not the same. Peppermint left, and I can't use the stove or oven because I don't know how to cast a spell.  
  
I'd like to cook more for Beowulf, even if it's just those candies of his...  
  
So, how are you and Kadmus doing?  
  
What? I turn to Chiroseau, who has a fatherly smile on his face. Closing my eyes, I can picture Papa... I would think that Beowulf would tell you, and that sounds rude, doesn't it? But, I mean...Beowulf's a better communicator than I am.  
  
Oh, he does, he rolls his eyes and I giggle because I can just imagine how much he's had to hear lately, he's normally in a good mood, but lately it's just been sickening. And because I'm the one who always has to report to him, I'm always hearing something like, I'm going out with Reis tonight, so can you make sure so-and-so doesn't forget when his shift is?' or, Reis wants to go out to Bariaus Valley and I want to bring a snack for her, but I hate sour stuff. You like sour foods, right Chiroseau? Can you recommend something?' or--  
  
Laughing, I hold out my hands. I understand, I understand! I lower my hands to my lap. But...why ask me as well?  
  
Well, you remind me so much of Aimee that I just can't help it, he smiles warmly, I feel like my own daughter is being courted, so I'm naturally worried.  
  
I guess that makes sense. Well, I really enjoy being with him...  
  
_We're inside Beowulf's office and his mouth is on mine. I can feel his hands on my shoulder blades and mine are securely on his shoulders. The kiss is wet, lips sliding against each other and with plenty of tongue. I'm sure I'm standing, but it's hard to concentrate on anything other than my lips and tongue and moving them just--  
  
Fingers at the bottom of my braid pull at the ribbon holding it in place, unleashing my hair from the intricate style.  
  
...I can't stand it when he does that, and he does that every time! I mean, I liked it the first time he did that, but it doesn't mean that I like that _every_ time...  
  
I pull away from him. Beowulf, was that really necessary?  
  
slowly he opens his eyes, your hair, you mean?  
  
I give him a blank look. I put up my hair not for you to undo it. I like it up.  
  
Really? I think it looks better when it's down, I raise an eyebrow at this. What exactly is he telling me? ...although you always look beautiful.  
  
If I believed all his compliments, I'd have a horrible ego within a year, if not less. But really, this is starting to get annoying...ah, I know. Beowulf, why do you always slick your hair back?  
  
He smiles at my innocent question. To keep it out of the way, then he blinks, his expression thoughtful, ...I see. Sorry, Reis.  
  
I smile and turn around. Okay, can you please put it back up? A braid, like the one I had before, I can feel his hands gather up my hair, which is down past my shoulder blades. I should cut it soon. His hands stop moving.   
  
I don't know how to braid.  
  
...Ah. Oh, okay, I raise my hands to the back of my head, taking my hair from Beowulf's hands and easily sectioning it into three, then plaiting it quickly. Holding together the end of the braid with one hand, I hold out the other one. I feel the smoothness of my ribbon placed into that hand, and I tie off my braid. Turning around to Beowulf, I notice his wide grin...what's that for?  
  
Thank you, Reis, his eyes crinkle and...why do I feel like I've just done something stu...oh.  
  
Reaching back with my left hand, I untie the ribbon. Please do it this time, Beowulf, I can't keep the irritation out of my voice. I can't believe how easily I fell for that...  
  
But I didn't undo this time, he says with a relatively straight face, you did.  
  
...It's nice to know that I can feel just as idiotic when I'm not saying something as much as when I am. I sigh and put up my hair in a simple ponytail before looking up at his infuriatingly wide smile. I ask, none too kindly.  
  
He steps up to me, placing a roughened thumb just under my lower lip, then drifting it up over the swell. Your lips are really red, he murmurs, and a delicious thrill races through my body.  
  
I can't ever stay annoyed at him...  
  
Gazing at his lips, I can't help but smile. So are yours.  
  
Is that so? Good, he starts to lean in, then we're the same..._  
  
...Sometimes though, he can be so ridiculous, I smile fondly.  
  
Sounds like love, Chiroseau says with amusement, and I immediately turn and look at him. He seems startled at my reaction by the way his eyes widen, is something wrong, child?  
  
...Wrong? Other than my inability to tell Beowulf the words he can easily admit to me? Three simple words, eight letters in the alphabet, three syllables, with the etymologies ranging all the way back to the Yudora Empire, where ships flew in the air as if they were birds...  
  
If I can't say those words, what does that mean?  
  
I don't even know if I'll mean them once I can force them in the open, where they'll be etched into our memories until the end of our lives. And that's like saying they'll be remembered forever...  
  
Is that how I feel? Can my feelings last forever?  
  
Do they even exist like how I want them to exist?  
  
I wish Peppermint had taught me...how do you realize you're in love?  
  
I wonder if I'm in love, I lean back and look into the sky. A cloudless day...  
  
The feelings I have for Beowulf, these feelings far beyond my comprehension...they could probably float beyond this visible sky into the heavens...maybe.  
  
Is that love?  
  
Love'. Love, love, _love_.  
  
Hn.  
  
What Beowulf can easily say...I don't even know if I feel towards him. Maybe it's just a heavily expanded like'?  
  
...That feels wrong. Why?  
  
Love is such a complicated feeling, isn't it? Chiroseau says kindly, and I look over at him and nod wordlessly. Kadmus has told you that he loves you?  
  
There's no use in hiding it. Less than a month ago, two, three weeks ago, I think, very recently.  
  
It sounds like you didn't give him an answer? I don't know how he can sound so calm saying something like that.  
  
I smile painfully. It feels like a lot of effort, anyway. I told him that I really, really, _really_ like' him.  
  
He closes his eyes, then opens them again, no visible emotion brimming from them. That's a lot of   
  
--_That's a lot of reallys'_--  
  
I sigh, dragging out the exhalation for as long as possible. That's what Beowulf said.  
  
I'm guessing that meant that he accepted your answer, I wince. I didn't want to answer like that at all... although it seems that you're not comfortable with it?  
  
Sitting up straight again, I look directly at Chiroseau. I want my feelings to match his perfectly. He's been so kind, so affectionate, so understanding towards me, and I... I lower my eyes because I don't want to face his expression, whatever it is, but...I should...I have to start facing forward. I look up into his concerned eyes, and I can't help but feel so guilty, what's wrong with me, Sir Chiroseau? He's so wonderful to me, yet I can't tell him...  
  
He stares at me as if he were studying me. Do you feel as if you absolutely have to return his feelings?  
  
_yes_, I wonder...is saying yes' a bad answer?  
  
It wouldn't be the answer I was hoping to hear, he admits in a low tone. I moan low in my throat. Of course it wouldn't be the right answer, the easiest one never is, why do you feel as if you have to, child?  
  
I bite down on my lower lip, gnawing it lightly. Because he deserves it. Because if there's anyone in this world who deserves to be loved, it's him.  
  
_I wonder if I could already love him._  
  
he looks at me pointedly, why you, Miss Reis?  
  
_I wonder if it is love._  
  
Because I'm the only one that can love him the way he needs to be loved, my eyes are stinging, so I close them and wait for the feeling to pass before opening them again, more than anybody else...  
  
_Or maybe..._  
  
Chiroseau looks worried again. I'm sorry... Loving him for his sake, instead of yours...does that really sound like love to you?  
  
_My feelings that go beyond me...maybe they're just..._  
  
No, but I can't admit it. It just hurts, not being able to force the words out.  
  
_No, it can't be it! I won't believe it..._  
  
Maybe that's your problem, Miss Reis, he smiles sadly, you're forcing it.  
  
_My feelings aren't just of lust, either._  
  
I open my mouth, wanting to counter his words.   
  
_I've arrived early in the morning. It's my day off, and I wanted to surprise him because I know that he has patrol in the afternoon. He once said that he likes it when I surprise him, so here I am. A visibly startled knight lets me in, and I purposefully walk through the room. He's not in here, so he must be in his office. I step through the threshold and Beowulf is there, standing next to his desk and putting on that scarf all knights seem to be required to wear.  
  
He looks over at me, his normal smile easily appearing. Oh, good morning. Hold on a second, okay?  
  
I nod dumbly, watching as the bare skin of his neck is swallowed up underneath folds of cloth, over  
  
_Skin to skin_,  
  
and around  
  
_moving rythmically_,  
  
and under.  
  
_arching underneath him..._  
  
Peppermint, if I did that without exactly knowing if I love him or not...would that be so bad, do you think?  
  
Right now...I don't think it'd be so bad._  
  
I just don't know, Sir Chiroseau, I begin weakly, I wonder who hurts more in the end: the person who loves and doesn't have his feelings reciprocated, or the one who isn't sure of her feelings, so every time she hears him say how much he loves her, she can't say it back?  
  
He shakes his head. Maybe we as human beings just have a need to complicate the feeling. It's in our nature, I guess.  
  
...That's not helpful. Because I'm human...why can't I uncomplicate my feelings by changing something I can actually change? That's depressing.  
  
That's love, and he sounds sad. I feel sad.  
  
When I was with my family, I didn't have to think about if I loved Mama and Papa and my brothers. Why would I need to? They were my family.  
  
I just don't understand.  
  
I'm sick of thinking about it. I have to go back to work anyway, then back to sewing up my dress for the ball in a couple of weeks. I have too many things to do to sit around and worry about love.  
  
Sir Chiroseau, I should be returning to work now, I stand up and stretch discreetly, arms lengthening behind my back, while holding in a midday yawn. He stands up as well, sadness lingering in his eyes.  
  
It was good to talk to you, he nods. I bow in return, and I hope that you can figure out your feelings...not for Kadmus, but for yourself.  
  
Sighing, I nod tiredly. Thank you for your concern. Until next time, I bow once again, then I step into the droves of people wandering about the shopping area, crossing through them until I find the smaller street that will lead me back to the church.  
  
I'm not good at figuring out my feelings. All I know is...I like Beowulf.  
  
But...love?  
  
How can I say that with the deep throbbing ache inside that wants more than simple kisses and clothed hugs?  
  
I'm so scared...what if I don't love him? What if I do give in to this insistent want?  
  
What about Beowulf's wants and needs?  
  
I stop.  
  
What does Beowulf want?  
  
--------  
  
I used to love to sew. Not just because of the actual creation process, because I still love it for that reason, but because I could drift away and not have to think about anything.  
  
I liked myself better when I wasn't thinking.  
  
Now, though...I try not to let myself drift away like that. I can't run away anymore, I need to stand up and face my fears. Of course, I don't really have a lot of fears. Just a lost memory and doubt.  
  
It just goes on from there.  
  
I know I care for Beowulf. I care so much...I don't want to hurt him. He's been hurt enough as is just because he wasn't given the love that he deserved...  
  
Aren't I doing the same thing?  
  
My inability to talk, to tell him worries me. I know I'm not the most vocal person, but even so...  
  
Maybe it means something. Maybe I don't love him now, but I will in the future.  
  
The future...what a vague distance.  
  
As much as I try to open myself up, it seems that I just can't go past some natural boundaries. I'm trying, I really am, but...  
  
I stop sewing, lowering my head and staring at the white of my half-completed dress.  
  
--Y_ou're not alone_--  
  
I remember when he said that and I thought to myself that words don't mean anything unless you prove it. And now look at me, agonizing over one word.  
  
On top of all my other faults, I'm a hypocrite too.  
  
Focusing on my lap, I see the white of my dress. Pure white, just like fluffy clouds over the valley, against a background of the clearest blue...  
  
_  
  
I rarely ever initiate a kiss. Usually I leave that to Beowulf's discretion, but lately I've been feeling sort of...edgy. Less than three weeks to complete a dress, Beowulf's feelings...I'm just confused.  
  
Why can't we just communicate only through actions? Kissing, touching...they're movements that linger at the edge of my memory, not substantial enough to do more than just make me want, yearn to make another hazy memory.  
  
Words, though...I remember every word all too well. Sometimes I really don't want to.  
  
His hands are trickling down my back, fingers playing with the bottom hem of my blue blouse. I wonder if he remembers it as the one I wore that day I was looking for thread and I nearly punched him because he surprised me. He correctly identified it as a male squire's shirt, and I didn't realize it at the time that it would've been stranger if he hadn't.  
  
There are lots of things I didn't--I don't--realize at any given time.  
  
His face is in my hands. I like his face. It has angles, which are really fun to run my fingers over. Today he has stubble, which is partially my fault because I asked if we could go over to Bariaus Valley in the morning and he readily agreed with that wonderful smile on his face. I don't like running my fingers through the tiny prickles as much, but it's still interesting.  
  
Anything of Beowulf's is immediately interesting to me...to a point.  
  
His left leg is between my legs. I'm kneeling over him, because he was sitting and looking at the sky when I just swung my left leg over his, placed my hands on his slightly surprised-looking face and kissed him. It's strange to be so forward, so masculine in my approach, but it's also kind of...exciting. I don't know why...it just is. It's probably really bad of me to be enjoying it so much.  
  
But he let me--is letting me--so how bad can it truly be?  
  
Coarse fingers brush along bare skin and I freeze.  
  
He's never touched me anywhere other than my face or shoulders, so this...it's like a new kind of touch.  
  
I can't say I mind it.  
  
Beowulf moves his head back and, when I open my eyes, I see the strange look he's giving me, hidden within the general haziness with which we often gaze at each other after we kiss. It's odd, because it's the same look he has whenever I ask him something semi-important, like which restaurant we're going to or what sort of dress I should make for the ball. That pensive, hesitant sort of look.  
  
Why is he looking at me like that...?  
  
His glance shifts past me and something new flickers within his brandy eyes. Look at the clouds, Reis, his voice has such a light tone to it that I can't help but turn my head. Wow, that's a lot of clouds, big and fluffy and white. They're cute clouds.  
  
Do you think it's going to rain? I turn back and he's staring at me with a strange little smile.   
  
You're such a realist, he grins. I raise an eyebrow at this. That's a skill I learned from being with Beowulf, along with breathing through my nose. They're both needed skills.  
  
Anyway, what's so bad about being realistic? Clouds equal rain, and I don't like getting my clothes wet while I'm in them. Isn't that a good thing?  
  
He stops grinning at this, although he still retains a small smile. Of course, his gaze flickers from me to the clouds again, when I was little, Sis would tell me that there was once a kingdom built on the clouds.  
  
What happens once the clouds dissipate? I move so that I'm back to sitting next to him, his hands dropping away from my back as I do so. I want to look up at the clouds more, too.  
  
Well, Lesalia has cloudy skies at least two-thirds of the year, so I didn't really think about that, he glances over at me, knowing Sis, she would've said something like, the cloud kingdom just moves over to another part of the world where it can use more clouds for its foundation.'  
  
I guess if there really is a cloud kingdom, it would probably do something like that. I would've liked to live in the cloud kingdom, I look over at him. He has an inquisitive expression on his face, I think it'd be really fun to float around all the time.  
  
I think I'd just be really scared all the time, he yawns and leans back, lying on the ground before giving me a look that I...what does that mean? Reis, you like heights though, right?  
  
I'm just used to them, that's all, why is he throwing me that look again?   
  
Why don't you lie down? It's more comfortable than straining your neck looking up like that, smiling, he stretches out his arm, I won't let your hair get dirty.  
  
I'm not worried about that. A little perturbed--does he really think I'm the type of person to care about twigs in my hair or something?--I lean back, resting my head against his chest. His arm curls up around me, hand lightly holding my forearm. I snuggle up to him, throwing my left arm around his waist. Oops, now his hand is on my waist. Sorry about that.  
  
Lips press against the top of my head. It's fine, the hand not on my waist runs up and down my outstretched arm, I thought you'd want to go back, since you're concerned about rain and all.  
  
I close my eyes, trying to put my right arm into a comfortable position. Finally, bending my arm above my head, I place my hand on his shoulder. Hopefully it won't get all tingly when I have to sit up. I do like clouds, and summer rain is a bit rare in July here, I think.  
  
Beowulf mumbles, you know, I don't think you belong in the clouds.  
  
...Hm? Why do you say that?  
  
Because...you're real. You're not an impassive, serene angel, he pauses, then kisses my forehead, you're realistic, and you're empathic, and you're...alive.  
  
Inside, I feel as if I'm floating.  
  
You're right, I don't belong there, I smile, raising my head slightly to kiss his cheek, prickly and reminding me that I'm awake, I belong with you.  
  
I don't need to be on clouds in order to float._  
  
I drop my needle and thread and throw myself back onto my bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.  
  
I love him. I love him not.  
  
I don't know.

-End to chapter 15-

Ah, build up. Fun, fun, fun. Incidentally, one of my best friends is going through something remarkably similar. When I started reading back some of the chapter to her on Sunday night, she thought I was recapping her situation. She wasn't pleased when she found out the truth...but, as far as I'm concerned, it's an incredibly common situation. Feelings never quite match up perfectly.  
  
- Cherche': One of the four perfumes in the game, this one has a refreshing scent'. It has Always: Float and Reflect and is the common poach from a King Behemoth. Suddenly, I feel like GameFAQs, but I just like poaching. I'd guess it's French, and I don't know what it means. Search'?  
  
-So, there were some questions about the last chapter, notably about Beowulf's relationship with his parents. I'm sorry that I didn't get it across very well, so here's the synopsis of it:  
  
Beowulf's mother is a brunette with hazel eyes. Beowulf's father is a brunet with green eyes. Amelia is a brunette with green eyes. Beowulf is a blond with red eyes. For sure Beowulf is his mother's child, but no one thinks that Professor Kadmus is the one who fathered him. Being a kind man, the professor accepted Beowulf as his son, but there was still a horrible scandal since Beowulf sure looks illegitimate. Because of this, Beowulf's mother hated Beowulf, even more so after the professor left for the war. Too bad DNA testing didn't exist at this time...  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey, Luna-chan. Y'know, I liked Wiegraf, but for all his ideals and such, he wasn't an infallible hero at all. I mean, he gave up his soul to Lucavi just so he could live, and his hatred for Ramza clouded over his noble beliefs and his desire to avenge his sister in the end. So, I guess...I liked him when he seemed like a hero, but didn't care for him once he showed how human he truly was. Yeah, I'm judgmental like that. I wish I had hot cocoa, but instead I have lukewarm oolong tea. Now I'm depressed...  
  
No-name Dean Garrison...something about that seems a bit off. ; I'm happy that you've enjoyed the story as much as you have, and I find that stories through lesser characters are so much more interesting on average than reading about the hero. If I wanted that, I'd play the game again. My story'...kinda odd when I'm writing fanfiction, huh? But yeah, I'll agree about the number of novelizations out there, but people like improving' on the original, I guess...  
  
Ah, Toastyann, nice to see you again! I don't know if I could ever get tired of hearing that, I do have an ego to feed, after all. ; But yes, Reis' change is very interesting, especially when I look back on the earlier chapters. It's actually disconcerting. ; But, uh...it was Reis' mother who said the men and women' line; unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your take of this chapter, Peppermint wasn't nearly as discriminating.  
I'm happy that my review meant something, thanks for telling me! Um, that line in my first review...I believe I was talking about the mood of the story, and what it seems like your tone is for most of the scenes. Other than that Kaoru/Yahiko insult scene, the story was going along slowly at that time. Of course, since then the energy's sped up, notably during the fight scene with the ninja. I guess I'm not good at explaining, I'm sorry. If you want to find me about something that's not this story, I'd appreciate it if you email me.  
  
Nice to meet you, Kay Willow....that's a pretty name. To be honest, I didn't notice that it was a review for chapter 2 until you mentioned it. ; But now I wish I owned a Palm Pilot, because I'd so be reading fanfics during math or something. I'm extremely happy that you've really enjoyed the story so far! I'm not sure why I like this couple so much either, but I just do, y'know? May I ask why you say that I have good taste' though? Is it because I'm writing Beowulf/Reis, or how I'm writing them? I can't wait to read the specifics!  
  
Arreat, you have extremely sensitive hearing too? It sucks, doesn't it? I'm sorry to hear that you've had a bad week, but it's good to know that the chapter cheered you up! Arguably, I believe that Beowulf has enough lines in the game for a hidden' special character, but Reis only gets one actual' line. I've heard the reason why--because she was a dragon for so long--but it doesn't mean that she's mute! I'm not sure about your question...I've either answered it in this chapter's notes, or maybe I'm not understanding it. Um, because he was born with them? Gah, Reis' chapter is coming up soon  
  
Thank you for reviewing! Please feel free to leave any comments or questions, and should you need to contact me about something other than this fanfic, I do have a shiny email address!  
  
Chapter 16: The Lovely Burn-out (_Setiemson Nocturne_): I don't care anymore, I don't see why I should've ever in the first place. Maybe what worked for Peppermint doesn't work for me, I don't know.  
  
I want Beowulf. Isn't that enough?'


	16. 16: The Lovely Burnout

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own any of the characters or locations in this work, Square-Enix does.  
  
Warning: This chapter is borderline **R** for sexuality.

Chapter 16: The Lovely Burn-out (_Setiemson Nocturne_)  
  
Tonight is the ball.  
  
Truthfully, I'm a bit nervous. I'm not fond of being around so many people, and Beowulf told me that there's going to be a lot of people at the castle tonight.  
  
A lot...? I didn't even know that there were nobles in this town until a month or so ago...  
  
For the last two weeks, I've watched as workers started going in and out of the castle. Verden, in an effort to talk to me--because lately we haven't been talking at all--explained to me precisely what the workers have been doing to the inside of the castle. But it was Beowulf who told me why there's even this large party in the first place.  
  
--_Well, most of these nobles are transplanted from Limberry, Zeltennia, and parts of Lesalia. They're used to living in a certain way. Since they contribute so much money to the Church, it's the least the town can do for them_--  
  
I suppose.  
  
I didn't realize that the Church was that well off, especially considering how Beowulf's always trying to find money for the knights under Lionel jurisdiction. But it doesn't seem like Verden has to do the same for the white mages.  
  
I guess I should be thankful. If it weren't for the bonus I received two weeks ago, I wouldn't have had enough money to create the dress that I had in mind.  
  
Pinning up most of my hair in a simple bun, I finish latching up the front of the dress. It took what seemed like forever to make it, but I really like it. I hope that Beowulf likes it too. I lift up my skirts enough to slip my feet into my favorite black boots--they may be old and worn, but no one will be able to see them anyway--and I walk out of my room. It's a little past seven, so the sun's almost completely set.  
  
Beowulf's waiting at the barracks. I should hurry...  
  
As quickly, as quietly as I can, I lift my skirts and walk down the hall, turning at the appropriate times until I'm clear of the church. I didn't hear anyone, so I don't think anyone saw me. I hope...  
  
--_Is this a risk you're willing to take?_--  
  
Of course, I wasn't even thinking of the potential risk when I agreed. Would Verden fire me or throw me out? Is the latter even possible? I'm not only employed by the Church, I'm also its ward as well.  
  
I don't know why, but I'm not terribly worried about that. I've got other things on my mind.  
  
I just want to have fun tonight.  
  
Walking past the castle, I can already see groups of men and women gathering at the gate. A couple of people catch sight of me and look at me oddly. I'm used to that by now, though.  
  
I kind of wish I wasn't.  
  
Two figures are standing in front of the barracks...oh, Beowulf and Chiroseau. I can see both men's eyes widen once they see me. I smile hesitantly. That is a good thing that they're staring at me like that, right?  
  
...  
  
...I wish they'd stop that.  
  
I approach them, making sure that my skirts don't drag on the ground. Good evening, I smile up at the two, I'm not too late, am I?  
  
although night has pretty much already arrived, Beowulf's eyes are still very red...and still very wide. Don't stare like that, it's embarrassing...  
  
Miss Reis, I focus on Chiroseau. His smile makes me want to smile more, you look simply magnificent. I just wanted to see how you looked before going to guard duty, and now I see that it was one of my better decisions.  
  
I bow deeply. It's so wonderful to receive such appreciation from a friend. Thank you very much for your kind words, Sir Chiroseau.  
  
You deserve them, child, he glances at Beowulf, who's staring at me in a different way now, Kadmus, Miss Reis, have fun, and with that, he walks off in the direction of the castle.  
  
I raise my left hand and wave it in front of his face only once before he clutches it, entwining our fingers together. He smiles, a softer version of his normal smile, and pulls me up to him. Bending his head down, I can feel his lips against my ear and I instantly blush. It's difficult to have two-fold sensitive ears, especially around him...  
  
Holy Knight, he whispers, pulling his head back and gazing into my eyes afterward.  
  
I smile.  
  
The actual dress itself is very simplistic. It's just a strapless white dress that flows all the way down to the ground, slightly puffed from the hips down due to the petticoat underneath. It opens in the front, with small latches on the inside from the top all the way to the waist. This is because I can't undo things I can't see, or else I would've moved it to the back. There's a seam because of this, but I tried to make it as subtle as possible. Even by itself, the dress is really nice.  
  
But, I can't seem to make an outfit without aligning it to a job class or two. Unattached to the dress itself is a collar in the style of a Holy Knight's collar, dark blue with gold inner trim which also hooks together from the inside. It's a bit larger than the average Holy Knight collar, since I wanted to hide the strapless-ness' of the dress. I'm really not sure if that's decent or not...I'd hate to be indecent, especially in a town like this.  
  
I also recreated the bases, or the long split-skirt of the Holy Knight uniform, except that I lengthened it to about shin-length and threaded a gold string down the front so that it criss-crosses over the dress. This is held up by a gold sash tied in the front, with the ends of the bases sticking up a bit above my hips.  
  
No gloves or matching cloak was made for the dress. As it was, three weeks was barely enough to finish the dress and its extras. But I think it's fine like this. Besides, I don't get cold or hot very easily.  
  
Judging by Beowulf and Chiroseau's reactions, I guess they think this is fine too.  
  
Do you like it? The words tumble out of my mouth, and I know I shouldn't _need_ to ask, but...I just want confirmation on my thoughts.  
  
His smile widens. I like you in it, he looks up into the new night, as if considering something, then his gaze returns to me, you're a great seamstress, but this time...I don't even think I can praise your skill enough.  
  
I...I don't know if I'm quite that good, but... for sure, Beowulf's greatest skill is his ability to compliment. I mean, what do I say to that? ...thank you, Beowulf.  
  
he gestures towards the castle, shall we go?  
  
I look at his chest. You're going in that?  
  
My uniform? He looks down. I was explicitly told to do so.  
  
I shrug. It's like he lives in that uniform. As long as it's clean, I don't really care. Besides, the black of it complements his eyes nicely.  
  
Hand in hand, we walk towards the castle, which has golden light pouring out of all its windows. The doors are wide open, with couples and groups lining up to go in. I have to admit that, with only the healthy glow of the light, the castle doesn't look half as bad as it does in the daytime. That's not saying much, but it's true that nighttime makes everything look better.  
  
The voices of all the nobles in front and behind us seem to melt into a continuous drone. There's a group far ahead of us who are discussing renovations for their houses, temporary homes until they can go back to Zeltennia. Somewhere behind them, a man is bragging to a lovely brunette about how he used to be a Touten knight until he received a leg injury. Also, it's hard for him to dance with it, but for her he'll try. I would almost say that sounded nice, if not for his solicitous tone. A group behind us is talking in hushed tones, expressing worry for Balbanes Beoulve, who has apparently recently become ill. The war front won't be nearly as effective without him.  
  
That's a familiar name. I believe Beowulf said that a Beoulve was the commander of the Hokuten, so it must be this Balbanes' person.  
  
Slowly we edge up to the door where two knights are standing, looking completely bored. Good evening Mikner, Riola, Beowulf sounds amused, and when I look at him his face matches his tone as the two knights jerk into attentiveness.  
  
Good evening, Sir Kadmus, the knight on the left side of the door says loudly, and his partner gives him an odd look before glancing at me.  
  
Good evening, Miss Dular, the other knight smiles at me, and I bow slightly. What a nice man.  
  
Beowulf squeezes my hand, nodding at the two knights. Have a good night, you two. I seem to remember that the both of you have the day off tomorrow, then we walk into the atrium of the castle, our footsteps echoing hollowly. Outside, I can hear the knights. They sound very happy.  
  
Beowulf, is something important happening tomorrow? I'm surprised at their exuberance. Patrolling doesn't seem _that_ bad...  
  
Well, since all the knights are pulling double shifts for tonight, as well as half of them having to work during the day... he looks up, where a large golden chandelier is hanging above our heads. Is that safe? I don't think anyone would want to work more than twenty-four hours in two days.  
  
That's a lot. Only because it's summer am I working almost ten hours a day...that and the fact that the book I have to translate now is just about worship rituals during the Yudora Empire onwards. It's tedious and contains dry writing, but it's far better than Ajora's dictation. That's a lot, isn't it?  
  
He shrugs. We're understaffed, especially since Takeo left.  
  
Ah. It must be tough.  
  
It could be worse, we follow some people through a hallway well-lit with glass-covered candles attached to the walls, but everyone's really cooperative, so I'm sure things will turn up in the next few months.  
  
I nod at this just as we enter a large room literally glowing as brightly as if it were daytime. There are candles everywhere, lining the walls on brass arms, above the room on three gold and crystal chandeliers, on tables set at the edges of the room...  
  
It's so extravagant.  
  
I want to say it's beautiful, but it's really too much for me. This room doused in fiery light is so blatantly rich that it's ridiculous.  
  
Where does the Church find the money to install all these things? Just from donations from the nobility? First the revolutionary' skylight, and now these delicate chandeliers and all the wax it must've taken to make all the candles that are currently ablaze...  
  
Beowulf squeezes my hand, lowering his head so that it's closer to mine. What do you think?  
  
I think I don't like it. I think it's so completely different from my tiny room in the church, or the hovel where I used to live with my family. It's not terribly different from Murond, although the latter is never glaringly lit up like this. The opulence at Murond was more due to the statues of holy beings and famous paintings all extolling the Glabados faith. Religious grandeur is fine, but...  
  
Is this what the nobility is used to? This kind of exorbitant wealth for no reason other than to show it off?  
  
...Hn.  
  
I don't like it, I mutter. I don't think it'd be good for a noble to hear me, this is too much for me.  
  
How can the Church sponsor something like this? The clergy tell the pilgrims that giving all their material wealth is necessary for spiritual enlightenment, but this is nothing but materialistic hedonism.  
  
This is something most believers of the Church will never see...  
  
It's a bit gaudy, yeah, he pauses as an orchestra in the farthest corner--the upper-right hand side--begins playing. I've heard many church choirs, but this sort of music is more soothing than off-tune singers, I never thought I'd ever use one of Sis' favorite words for anything in Lionel, he says in a thoughtful tone.  
  
And the outside of the castle--for that matter, the outside of the town--looks so plain and drab. I guess I've just learned not to judge a castle by the stone used. Beowulf, can we sit down? The brightness of the room is getting to me.  
  
I miss the night.  
  
Of course, he begins to lead me to one of the closer tables, in the lower left-hand corner of the room, it's all a bit too much to take in at first, isn't it?  
  
A bit'...?  
  
Well, then again, Beowulf is a noble...a knight with noble blood. I can imagine that Lesalia has far more in the way of this immoderate wealth, but I suppose that's fine there.  
  
But in a province owned by the Church?  
  
Is that you, Sir Kadmus?  
  
Beowulf and I turn at the deep voice. A heavyset man with reddish-blond hair and mustache stands before us, dressed in clothes I've never seen before. They're not peasantry clothes, nor are they from a job class or associated with the Church. But...they look rich. It's good to see you again, Lord Albenky, Beowulf says politely but without his usual warmth.  
  
This lord nods approvingly, his eyes focusing on me...but not my face. Lower than that...what is he looking at? And who is your ravishing date?  
  
Ravishing'? I don't like the sound of that. I open my mouth to answer  
  
--_Miss Reis, there are a lot of pretty women here, but I can count the number of women that are as tall as a man using both hands, and a couple of them are white mages_--  
  
and I know that for tonight, Reis Dular can't be here. Rela...Rela Romekia, I smile tightly, trying to constrict my vocal cords enough so that I can hear Mama's accent threading through my words.  
  
Lord Albenky's eyes widen. Ah, you're from Limberry? You must be feeling very displaced here in peaceful Lionel.  
  
Mama's from Limberry? That is true, this castle gives me that feeling.  
  
Well then, it was a pleasure Sir Kadmus, Miss Romekia, he keeps his gaze on me for a moment longer before turning and leaving. Thank God.  
  
'Rela Romekia'? Beowulf looks amused, and here I thought I'd asked Reis Dular to the ball.  
  
Well... Sir Chiroseau warned me that I apparently look unique enough that, if word should get back to--  
  
I see, he says quickly, leading me to the group of tables. Casually he pulls out a chair for me at the nearest table before sitting down across from me, so, why   
  
I sweep aside a length of hair out of my face with my right hand. That is Mama's name, my voice sounds softer than I would like it to be. It makes me sound sad, and the accent I used is Mama's accent.  
  
He leans forward over the table, a hint of interest in his eyes. Limberrian...she must've emigrated to Lionel because of the impending invasion.  
  
I was born in twenty-six, so I think that's a bit off, he nods at this, but I didn't know where she came from, only that she has always had that accent, I look down onto the lavish tablecloth. A lavish tablecloth, with intricate red patterns over a sea of beige on a material that's soft and shimmers. I could spend my entire savings in my valise and only hope to get enough cloth to make a blouse...no, probably just a scarf. My dress and its extras seem so plain next to this...  
  
Is something wrong? I look up into Beowulf's brandy eyes. The red of the tablecloth is about that same color, but more red than brown...  
  
...This tablecloth is made out of the best material I've ever seen, and will probably ever see. I don't think I want to get invited into another castle as long as I live.  
  
Lightly touching the cloth with his fingertips, he shakes his head. Oh, this is...um...no, Sis has never seen this sort before...oh, Ryozan silk. It's from the Eastern Lands. It's not the best material, but it's nice.  
  
Just nice'? Is this sort of cloth something all nobles would expect to see draped across the dozens of tables in this room? What does it take to impress a noble, then? I would've loved to make my dress with this kind of cloth... I trail off. Wow, that would be a nice dream.  
  
But your dress looks beautiful anyway, he rests his chin in his right hand, I don't think the material matters so much as the skill.  
  
I think he's only just saying that because I made this dress. Skill is great and all, but the basis of that skill relies on the material used, his eyebrows arch, that goes for all things: clothes, cooking...  
  
Does it go for people as well? His voice is unusually quiet.  
  
...? No, not people. But everything else, I mean.  
  
At this, he shrugs. You would know better than I would, he grins suddenly, if you take this cloth, I promise I won't tell anybody. You can use it for your next dress.  
  
It's not everyday that I'm motivated into a life of crime by a knight. Stealing is wrong, Sir Kadmus, I smile when he begins to laugh, besides, there's already a design on it, and I don't like it.  
  
It is a rather ugly design, is it not?  
  
Looking over to my right, I see a woman standing at our table. She's dressed in something...it looks like a robe, but made out of thicker material and with a wider sash holding it together. The robe is a deep crimson, and the sash is a light wheat color that softly shimmers in the light. There is a violet rope tied at the front of the sash.  
  
I've never seen that sort of outfit before...  
  
The woman...her face is simply extraordinary. Her color is lightly golden, with almond-shaped eyes that have odd eyelids. Hints of red streak out at the outer corners of her eyes. With deep red lips she smiles, eyes narrowing accordingly. Her dark hair is twined up above her head, except for twin braids that fall from the front of her ears to the top of her sash.  
  
She's so...exotic...  
  
Out of the corner of my eye I see Beowulf stand, so I do the same. Miss Koizumi, it's a pleasure to see you again, he says warmly.  
  
...Hn.  
  
As to you, Beowulf-san, she replies melodiously. I guess san' is an honorific, like Mister' or Miss'. Ah, my voice doesn't sound nearly as pretty as hers... please introduce me to your date, when she fixes her dark-brown eyes on me, I can't help but feel as if she's judging me.  
  
Don't order him around...  
  
Beowulf clears his throat. This is Reis Dular, Miss Koizumi, the woman I was telling you about, what did he tell her? Reis, this is Chieko Koizumi, the ambassador from the Eastern Land's daughter.  
  
Chee-ay-ko? Honored to meet you, Miss Koizumi, I bow. I'm not sure if I'm lying or not.  
  
Reis-san, ne? So you are the woman whom Beowulf-san was praising so highly... she steps up to me. A nervous flutter goes through my stomach, probably because I can't read this woman at all. She places a soft hand on my cheek, looking straight into my eyes, Beowulf-san told me such wonderful things about you, I feared that he was perhaps...exaggerating about your charms. But, after seeing you tonight, she smiles widely, I do not think he has praised you enough.  
  
How can she give away praise so freely when she doesn't even know me? Ah...I don't think so, really...  
  
She tilts her head, staring at me oddly. He also said you were unfailingly polite and always modest.  
  
Well, that is... ...Thank you for the...orizuru you made for me. You didn't have to go through the trouble...  
  
It was not a trouble at all, she removes her hand from my face and I find myself missing that delicate touch, did you also like the outfit he picked for you?  
  
...Outfit? I look over across the table, where Beowulf has been oddly quiet. He glances at me, then at Chieko. Miss Koizumi, I don't think it'd fit her.  
  
She looks up and down my body...how unnerving... She seems to have an adequate hip structure, well, that's always nice to know, I think. Looking over at Beowulf again, he appears to be a bit...nervous?  
  
I...ah...wasn't talking about that, he says softly. Why won't he just say it? I would like to know, considering we're talking about my body not fitting something.  
  
Ah, chotto mondai ga arimasu, she mutters. What? Reis-san, how old are you?  
  
Hm?   
  
At this, she sighs. Oh. Myself, I am juunana-sai...how is that translated...seventeen, I believe. Anyway, do not worry about the outfit. I think it is a bit showier than you would have liked, I would've liked to make my own opinion about that... but I was told you are a talented seamstress. Did you make that dress you are wearing?  
  
Yes, I did, and it feels so simplistic compared to Chieko's outfit, to the tablecloth...  
  
It is very beautiful, she pauses, would you make a copy of it for me?  
  
That is the first time anyone has ever asked me that. Beowulf has always complimented all my works, but now someone wanting something I've made? I smile sadly. That's a compliment beyond all others, but... I...I'm sorry, but I don't think I could... I mean, she is the ambassador's daughter. Someone like her deserves the best, and I...no. But, still...  
  
...That's a shame, she looks a bit disappointed. I feel bad... but I underst--  
  
Koizumi-sama! Koizumi-sama! A man who looks like he came from the Eastern Lands runs up to us. He's dressed in Ivalician fashion, not quite to the level of the lord from earlier, but certainly not like a peasant either.  
  
Chieko waves away the man while keeping her eyes on me, I must leave to prepare my song. It was a pleasure meeting you, Reis-san, she looks over at Beowulf, who looks bored, I was happy to see you too, Beowulf-san, with that, she turns at walks away, towards the side of the room.  
  
--_I was in security meetings all week, and I didn't have time to go out and buy you something like I promised_--  
  
I look over at Beowulf.   
  
Smiling sheepishly, he sits down, expectantly looking at me to do the same. I do so carefully, trying to make sure my dress doesn't get wrinkled. Yes, well...I had some free time during an afternoon, so I went to look around Zaland's shopping area with Miss Koizumi. I saw this outfit and I thought of you, so I asked to get it made, but...I didn't know your measurements, and so Miss Koizumi was used instead.  
  
But what's so different about my and Chieko's figures? She seems to be as thin as I am, although the cylindrical nature of her thick robe makes it hard to be sure. So...what's so different about us?  
  
Well, ah...she's a bit...bigger...than you are, he looks uncomfortable with my questions. I feel uncomfortable because I don't know what he's talking about. I guess he's saying that she's chubbier than I am, which, well...everybody is, pretty much.  
  
But I don't understand why his face would be tinted red...perhaps he feels hot with all the candles around?  
  
Well, I can always alter it... I want to see the outfit Beowulf bought for me. I'm so used to making and buying my own outfits that...it's really nice to have clothes bought for me.  
  
His smile seems a bit frozen. Um...don't worry, I'll take care of it, his attention moves over to the center of the room, where a variety of couples are dancing to the orchestra, did you like Miss Koizumi?  
  
Ah...probably, although the only thing I can tell about her is that she's a direct person who seems as if...she could be a different person than what she showed. She seems nice.  
  
Of course, most people seem nice at first. It's afterwards that matters.  
  
Like you, she's an older sister, it seems like every woman is, lately, she has twin brothers two years younger than her, and then her youngest brother is three or four years younger than them. She once said something about how he was coming to Ivalice to study at Gariland Academy.  
  
--_Mama, when can I learn how to read?_--  
  
It's good to learn, I watch all the people dancing, which makes me want to do the same, except I don't know how to dance with a partner. I can twirl around just fine by myself, but...   
  
Do you want to dance, Reis? I look over at him in astonishment. How did he know? I kind of want to try too, he smiles.  
  
Try'? What do you mean by   
  
His smile becomes one of amusement. I've never danced before...not like I ever wanted to, he leans back in his chair as if to stand up, if that didn't scare you from the idea, do you want to?  
  
You could never scare me, I stand and smile at him, let's go try.  
  
Beowulf stands up and reaches out to me, grasping my right hand. We walk over to the front of the entrance of the room, silently watching the dancers step and spin with relative ease. I'm not clumsy, usually, but the type of dancing that everyone is doing seems complicated. Looking up at Beowulf, I see that he's watching the couples almost intensely. I can't tell if he understands the steps, or if he's more confused than I am.  
  
...Hm? I thought I just saw something...? Moving my head back so that I can see around Beowulf's arm, I see...a boy? Knights?  
  
What's going on?  
  
I look up into Beowulf's concerned expression. Raising my left hand, I point between our shoulders at the door.  
  
What are your knights doing to that boy? Well, not like he'd know since he's here, but...  
  
He glances over his shoulder, and I watch his face transmute from mild curiosity to faint annoyance. What's this... he lets go of my hand and strides through the threshold of the ballroom into the darker, but still very well-lit, hallway. Well, I guess I should follow him...  
  
With raised skirts, I approach just as Beowulf crosses his arms and sighs. What's going here?  
  
Sir Kadmus, a knight with blond hair jabs a finger at the casually dressed child, who has his golden hair in a ponytail sticking out at the base of his head, this brat here attempted to sneak into the castle. Says he wants to do something to the nobles with that worthless junk in his hands.  
  
The boy screams, looking extremely insulted. I think I can understand...I wouldn't like to be called a brat' either. Jerk! I'm not some stupid kid, I'm a mechanic from Goug! Goug...? Oh, maybe that explains the unwieldly-looking hunk of black that he's cradling in his arms. Now that I think about it, this boy looks like he's Izlude's age...  
  
I look up at Beowulf's profile. His face is blank. Let's not resort to name-calling, please, he says blandly, and both the boy and the knight look embarrassed at this, so child, what were you going to do to the nobles with that thing?  
  
The boy narrows his amber eyes, glaring at Beowulf now...that reminds me of how Tyrei would look when he was being difficult... I have a name, it's Mustadio. Mustadio Bunanza. And this thing' is a relic from the Yudora Empire. Father told me that it's called an image duplicator'.  
  
Beowulf whispers. He looks like he's remembering something... okay, so what does this image duplicator' do, and why did you come to Lionel with it?  
  
It prints a duplicate of whatever's in front of it when I press this button here, Mustadio points to something at the top of the hunk of black, I came here cause I figured that the nobles would be interested, and then they'd fund our excavations at the deeper drifts in Goug so we can dig up more relics like this.  
  
The other knight, black-haired, laughs at this. What? Why would the nobility want to fund a useless thing like that?  
  
Mustadio's face goes blank for a moment, then he looks over at the knight and smiles. Why not? They give money to the Church.  
  
Covering my mouth with my left hand, I bite the insides of my mouth to try to keep from laughing.  
  
Well, that sounds like a good idea, both knights, who seemed as if they were going to attack the boy, stare at Beowulf like he said something strange. I can't see why...if I were looking for donations I'd go for the richest people first, too, can you test out your image duplicator' on me then? I want to make sure that it's not harmful first.  
  
Mustadio stares at Beowulf with something approaching amazement. O-okay, sure! Let me just set this up... he opens a compartment on the back of that thing and starts tinkering with it.  
  
Sir Kadmus, I don't think this is a good idea at all, that could be a hidden weapon of some sort, the blond knight says in an urgent tone. Beowulf merely smiles.  
  
This boy's father is one of the meisters of the mechanics of Goug, so I don't see why he'd lie, I really like how rational Beowulf is about this whole situation. He wouldn't lie about it to calm down his men either, so...  
  
he looks over at me, curious, can I do this with you? It seems like this would be kind of fun.  
  
If you want, he smiles, then looks over at the boy, is that possible, Mustadio?  
  
The boy shrugs, still looking into the hunk of black. Let me widen the field...okay, he looks up at us, then holds up the image duplicator in front of his upper face, can you two stand closer together?  
  
We do so, Beowulf's arm easily wrapping around my shoulders. I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder. The knights look disapproving as they stand on either side of Mustadio. They remind me of red panthers ready to pounce on their prey.  
  
with that, the boy presses on the button. A plume of black smoke bursts out at Mustadio and he starts coughing, the hell...?  
  
...I'm guessing that wasn't supposed to happen...?  
  
The smoke clears from around him as he frantically wipes away soot from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. It's never done _that_ before... he mutters as he pries open the back of the duplicator again, ...what? But I thought... he reaches into a pack at his hip and starts digging around, then freezes, oh, figures I'd leave _that_ behind.  
  
Can we help you with something? Beowulf offers politely, the arm around my shoulders moving up, fingers playing with the pins in my hair. I give him a look, and his hand stops and goes back around my shoulders. Well, that worked, thank God. I'd hate to put up my hair again...  
  
Nah, I left some coils and stuff back home...what a waste, Mustadio slams the compartment closed and starts walking towards the castle's atrium, thanks anyway.  
  
You're not leaving for Goug now, are you? It's night, Beowulf sounds concerned.  
  
The boy stops, then bends down and pulls something from his left hip. He turns slightly, holding up an odd object next to his face. Like I said, I'm not some stupid kid, he smiles, then turns and walks away.  
  
What an odd boy...  
  
Beowulf shrugs, and I can feel the motion through his arm. If he says so, he remarks, looking at his knights, back to your posts, you two. Reis, weren't we going to dance?  
  
-----  
  
We can't dance.  
  
We tried. Many times, actually. Eventually we had to leave the dance floor because of...well...injuries. He stepped on my feet, I stepped on his, and we kept bumping into people. Lots of people.  
  
It's a bit sad. A lot of people were quietly making snide comments about us, and I can't say I blame them.  
  
Ah...this ball isn't very much fun if we can't dance...  
  
I'm sorry, Reis, Beowulf says while sitting next to me, our chairs facing the dance floor, I thought it'd be easier than that.  
  
My parents always believed that if one kept trying at something, they would eventually succeed. It's mostly true, but...I don't think there's a sense of rhythm between the two of us in the first place. I'm sorry too. I thought it'd be more fun than that.  
  
He leans back in his chair, watching the happy, coordinated couples twirl around. I wonder what we were doing wrong?  
  
--_Oh, look at that! How scandalous! They're..._--  
  
Someone mentioned that we were too close to each other, but I don't believe that could ever be possible. I'd rather be too close to Beowulf than too far.  
  
He looks over at me, smiling slightly. Is that possible?  
  
I mimic his smile, eyes turned more towards him than my face. I don't think so.  
  
He chuckles a bit, full of life and and happiness. That part of him that I admired first, that I wanted to have...at his laughter, I can feel it welling up in myself.  
  
It's like there's a part of Beowulf in me...that innate happiness of his, one of the many reasons why I like him so much...  
  
I wonder what of me he's found in himself, if anything at all?  
  
his smile is wide and cheerful, are you having fun?  
  
because of you, are you?  
  
He grins. Of course. After all, I have the most beautiful, the kindest, most wonderful--  
  
With a sudden heat rushing through my face, I look away, shaking my head slightly. He can be so ridiculous... I think you're overdoing it, Beowulf.  
  
Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he goes back to watching the couples dance. About you? Never, I can hear the undercurrent of laughter in his voice, and I smile.  
  
Excuse me, everybody! Chieko's voice sounds from the corner directly opposite of ours. I can't see her through the throng of people who have stopped dancing in favor of looking in her direction, and a glance over at Beowulf reveals that he's not having any luck either. I am supposed to leave early tomorrow, so I wish to sing a song before I retire for the night. The ball will continue on after my song, so there is no need to leave. I hope that our respective countries will continue to maintain peaceful relations, and I shall do whatever it takes to achieve that end.  
  
But first, a song. It is called Eternity', sung in Ivalician.  
  
A mellow tune begins to play, one that reminds me of a nighttime filled with stars. I drift in the melody, and Chieko's voice surprises me once she begins, low and melodious like her speaking voice. Her accent makes the song sound exotic, even though it's all in Ivalician.  
  
It's beautiful.  
  
_Sweep past elation,  
though I don't understand the words you say,  
you whisper soft and low  
and I am swept away._  
  
I lower my head. That's...that's sort of like Beowulf and I. His ability to talk, my inability...  
  
But even with that, and the ridiculous amount of compliments that he gives me, he makes me feel really  
  
_loved_  
  
wanted.  
  
_My heart will nevermore be free  
A part of you I hold with me  
from now until eternity._  
  
...  
  
I wonder...  
  
_Deep past the ocean,  
with every kiss I'm deeper in your spell,  
love me again tonight,  
you are my one desire._  
  
I look over at Beowulf, who is paying complete attention to the song.  
  
The song that completely reflects how I feel...  
  
_Waves of emotion,  
I know that this is where I want to be,  
locked in your arms  
with no key._  
  
Beowulf...  
  
Can you hear me in the song, Beowulf?  
  
A small smile creeps over my face.  
  
Of course not. I've never told him. Just like I can't tell him if I love him or not.  
  
Why won't my voice work that way? It won't provide the backbone for all my most important thoughts. I can't sing in a voice fit for a songstress about how much I truly want to be near him, how much he means to me, how much I...like him. I can't bestow wondrous sweetened words about how beautiful I think his eyes are, his smile, his face...him.  
  
I can't do any of that because of who I am.  
  
Maybe it's time to start relying on other ways.  
  
Beowulf smiles at me, a tinge of confusion deep within his brandy eyes. Those eyes that I've always liked...  
  
I smile widely, honestly. Beowulf, will you walk me back to my room?  
  
He seems puzzled, but after the initial flash of confusion in his eyes he just smiles like he usually does. Of course. I guess there's nothing else we can do, anyway, standing up, he offers me his hand and I take it, his fingers and palm pleasantly rough against my own.  
  
I stand and we make our way out of the castle, stepping out through the doors and past some very bored-looking knights into the summer night. The occasional breeze is pleasantly warm against my bare arms and face.  
  
Everything is very pleasant right now.  
  
Slowly we walk to the church, which seems utterly devoid of any sort of life. The bell tower states that it's five past ten, which is very good. I have work tomorrow and so does Beowulf.  
  
Tomorrow we go back to hiding.  
  
We walk into' the church, making our way down the halls, the waning moon's milky light hitting us as we pass each of the holes in the outer walls. One turn and a couple doors later and we're in front of my room.  
  
Not so long ago, I was putting on my dress and pinning up my hair...where has the time gone?  
  
Why does this night have to end?  
  
This is my room, I murmur, looking up into his moon-splashed face, paler than his normal skin tone. I squeeze his hand, thank you for inviting me.  
  
He lowers his head so that his forehead is resting against mine. I close my eyes. You don't have to thank me, Reis, I was happy to spend some time with you, I can feel his breath going down my face as he lowers his head even more, lips brushing against the tip of my nose when I raise my head, very happy...  
  
The kiss is soft at first, lips lightly touching and hands loosely clasped between our bodies. Tilting my head to the left, I start opening my mouth and he does the same, lips still connected so that by the time my head is completely tilted to the left our open mouths are sealed together, the movements of our tongues hidden to any passerby.  
  
Not like there would be any, thank God.  
  
I let go of his hands and move them up along his chest until they're around his neck, pulling him closer to me. As I do so, his arms wrap around my waist, hands up along my back. Pulling away slightly, I press closed lips against his once, twice, our noses bumping as I tilt my head back to the right. At this, Beowulf moves his head back slightly.   
  
Not yet...  
  
Moving my hands down to the front ends of his scarf, I pull his head past mine, my lips brushing against his ear. and my voice normally doesn't sound like that, so breathless yet constricted, but I...I don't want this night to end just yet.  
  
I have to show him...  
  
He kisses my cheek, his lips trailing back to mine. We kiss hungrily, almost roughly in a way we have never--never could have normally, mouths driven up against each other, tongues clashing for supremacy. Beowulf's not usually like this, I'm not usually like this, but...  
  
We can make this night go on.  
  
My back bumps against the wall next to my door and it surprises me because I didn't even notice that we were moving backwards. I'm pressed up against the wall and Beowulf's pressed up against me, and what's that odd hardness pressed against my lower stomach...  
  
Oh.  
  
It's strange. With all his words and his calm and collected persona, it's this reaction of his body that really lets me know how much he wants me.  
  
He really wants me as much as I want him...  
  
There's a nudging in my mind, a familiar one  
  
_what about love?_  
  
that I've been trying to figure out for the past month or so.  
  
What about it?  
  
I don't care anymore, I don't see why I should've ever in the first place. Maybe what worked for Peppermint doesn't work for me, I don't know.  
  
I want Beowulf. Isn't that enough?  
  
Removing his arms from around my waist, I can feel his hands on my face, holding my face. Calloused thumbs tenderly stroke along my cheekbones, the rest of his fingers entangling themselves in the lengths of hair along the sides of my face. His hands trickle down the sides of my face, down my neck and onto my shoulders, tugging on my bangs all the while. I like that. Slowly his hands descend past my collarbone, and they...stop?  
  
Don't...  
  
I grab onto his shoulders and arch my back, driving my hips into his. He groans into my mouth, his hands sliding onto my breasts. I can't help but blush when he squeezes them softly, nor can I help but squirm slightly at the odd sensation. It's weird to be touched there, but since Beowulf's back to being his gentle self I don't mind it. My lips move down, capturing his lower lip between them and sucking on it lightly before returning to both of his lips. He eagerly returns the kiss, his hands faltering only slightly as he does so.  
  
This is nice...  
  
Why does it feel like my chest is being exposed...oh, his hands are weighing down the top of my dress. Hm...I know. Lowering one of my hands from his shoulders, I reach down inside the front of my dress and undo the first few latches, parting the sides afterwards. Well, while I'm undoing things, let me take off this collar...but if I have to undo anything else, then we should go into my room...  
  
He reaches inside my dress with both hands and cups my breasts...mn, the feel of his roughened hands on my skin...it's nice. Very nice. His thumbs roll along my nipples and I squirm again, this time because of the tingles I get every time he does...that...I can feel his forefingers drift down as well, and...ah...  
  
_More_.  
  
Dimly, I can feel his lips along my exposed neck now, kissing and sucking the skin fervently. My arms are at my sides, my fingers digging into the wall as he lightly pinches my now-stiffened nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. _God_. His lips move upward until I can feel them against my earlobe; his breathing, shallow and uncoordinated, is nowhere near as erratic as mine. he murmurs. I moan in response...it's too much trouble to form words right now, I love you...  
  
...  
  
Even now he can say that...especially now...  
  
--_I love you..._--  
  
All this...he's doing all this because he loves me. And I...but I...it's the easier way!  
  
It's the forgettable way.  
  
Kissing and touching are hazy memories, but words last forever.  
  
The easier way...  
  
Giving him my body is easier than giving him my word.  
  
What have I been thinking?  
  
Raising my hands from the wall, I push away his hands from my chest and shove myself out from between the wall and his body. I stare up at him, my throat constricting at his look of confusion.   
  
I can't explain. I don't want to explain. I have to get away and think...  
  
I spin around, grasping my doorknob and flinging the door open, slamming it behind me. Sliding against the door until I reach the stone floor, I bring my knees up to my uncovered chest and wrap my arms around my shins.  
  
There's a long moment before  
  
--tmptmptmp--  
  
I hear Beowulf's boots against the floor, walking away from my door.  
  
He didn't even try to...  
  
I lower my forehead to the top of my knees.  
  
I didn't try.  
  
it's a strangled whisper, the most I can make at this moment with all these feelings raging in my stomach. I feel sick.  
  
I...I just wanted to show him my true feelings.  
  
...The easiest way...the best way...what is it...  
  
Why don't I know?

-End to chapter 16-

I may be overestimating when I say borderline R, but I don't really want to risk offending anybody. Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!  
  
- Setiemson': Another perfume, this one has an exotic scent'. It grants Always: Haste and Transparent, and I think 1 to magic. I don't care to poach Hydras for it. I haven't a clue what a setiemson is.  
  
-While Ryozan Silk (poached from Tiamats) is supposed to be the best rug/cloth for dancers, I'm sure there's better in the way of actually creating tablecloths and clothes and such.  
  
- Ah, chotto mondai ga arimasu.-- Ah, that's a bit problematic.  
  
- Eternity' is a song sung in English by Akino Arai, from Record of Lodoss War (I don't know if it's in the TV series or OAV). Casual anime fans may know her as the singer of both Outlaw Star endings, Hiru no Tsuki' and Tsuki no Ie'. Yes, I massacred the song immensely, but I had no intention of turning this chapter into a mini-songfic.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey Luna, you do have good points about Wiegraf. So, what do you think about Delita? Yeah, I've noticed that there are quite the number of guys who will admit their love first...but that always makes me a bit wary. Then again, there are a lot of girls who do the same, so... shrugs I didn't think it was off-topic though, since it relates back to the story. I think by now you can guess what the next subtitle is from, so I'll find more obscure items for my subtitles.  
  
Josh, thanks! Are there any particular reasons why you like the story, though?  
  
It's nice to see you again so soon, Kay Willow! I actually didn't think of the similarities between my Reis and Squall, even though I am one of the (rare?) people that liked his characterization. And considering that both characters also suffer from memory loss...well, Reis is pretty cliché now that I think about it. ; And Beowulf...his characterization actually worries me more than Reis', simply because I'm always worried about if he sounds too unrealistic for a man. Since this story is completely character-driven, I'm always a bit worried.  
I'm extremely happy to hear that you're not impatient about the pacing. With the kind of 1st person POV that I do, I can't afford to go from Point A to Point B in a certain amount of chapters, I have to build the characters up to that point. And even with that, I'm not sure how people will take certain changes--like the one in this chapter--because they're either reading something different into Reis or not paying enough attention. Well, who knows...  
  
Thank you for reading! If you have any comments or questions, I'd love to hear them! For comments about things not related to this story, please look into my author profile for my email address.  
  
Chapter 17: In My Heart (_Chantage Melody_): Reis...I don't want you to say anything for my sake, especially that... 


	17. 17: In My Heart

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

_  
_  
Chapter 17: In My Heart (_Chantage Melody_)  
  
I'm afraid.  
  
I couldn't sleep last night knowing this.  
  
The choices I make are always wrong.  
  
Lying on my bed in the partially undone dress I had eagerly made with my own hands, staring blankly at the bland white ceiling lined with cracks, this is the only thing I can think of. The only thing that makes sense right now.  
  
It's always me.  
  
If he hadn't told me that he loved me at that crucial moment, I definitely would've given myself to him. That wouldn't have been a bad thing. Having him next to me right now sounds a lot better than numbly staring at my ceiling.  
  
But he deserves all of me, not just a substitution of the words he says so easily.  
  
I used to want to be on Beowulf's level. Last night showed that...I'm nowhere near it.  
  
I want to tell him that I love him, but I don't even know...are those true words? Even if they are, after last night...  
  
--_I think you're a lot braver than me_--  
  
I wonder if he really even knows me at all if he can say something like that.  
  
The sun's shining through my window. It looks like another beautiful summer day, the last day of July...but I think I'll just stay and work for the entire day.  
  
It's too bright for me.  
  
-----  
  
_During the Essol period (340-570), it was expected that all the females in the priest's immediate family, after reaching a certain age of about twelve or thirteen, would work full-time in the church as healers to any traveler that needed assistance. This was due to the belief that women, like Saint Ajora's own mother, were closer to the core of the essence of magic and therefore were more competent at the magical arts. Thus the first white mage' societies were born at this time, the requisite white cloaks derived from the prayer robes these women wore while within the church. That's not to say that white mages hadn't existed prior to this time, but only that..._  
  
A low rumble gurgles through my stomach and I lower my pen. I'm so hungry but I don't want to leave...  
  
Good afternoon, Reis, I hear Verden's voice and his footsteps as he approaches me, what are you still doing here? It's lunchtime, is it not?  
  
Watching him as he takes his regular seat across from me, I find that I'm not really as wary of him as I was when he tried to defame Peppermint to me. He can say what he wants, but I know the truth about Peppermint...about Beowulf. Good afternoon, Verden, I can't even attempt a smile, I just want to finish my work as quickly as possible.  
  
A small frown appears, distorting his serene mask. Oh? Not at the expense of your own health, I hope.  
  
Would it really matter? Don't worry about me, please.  
  
I can't help it... he stares at me strangely. What's that look for? Reis? What's that mark on your neck?  
  
...Mark? Why would I have a mark on my neck...  
  
--_Reis...I love you..._--  
  
Oh, no.  
  
What to say, what to say...I don't even know what it looks like, so, um... It must be a bug bite.  
  
He gives me an incredulous look. From what I can see, it looks a bit like a bruise.  
  
...Well, if nothing else, my hair seems to be hiding most of this bruise'. I look straight into Verden's eyes. Then, it must be a bruise that I've forgotten about until now, although I murmur these words calmly, he doesn't look convinced. I can't say that I blame him.  
  
It's hard to be vague about a physical feature that wasn't there yesterday.  
  
Then, if you don't mind me asking, where did you acquire such an odd-looking bruise since I last saw you yesterday and today? He steeples his hands. I can't help but notice how nicely trimmed his fingernails are.  
  
I wish I could distract him as easily as I can distract myself.  
  
That question...there's only one way out of this. Yes, I mind you asking me that question, Verden, keeping my face pleasantly blank is so hard in this case...  
  
Oh, alright then, light blue eyes widen just a bit at my words. I think I've surprised him, forgive my intrusion into your privacy, then.  
  
...That was easier than I thought it would be. It's okay, I smile slightly and he seems to visibly relax, giving me a little smile in return, thank you for your concern.  
  
My stomach rumbles again, and Verden stands up from his seat. If you don't wish to leave, then you won't mind if I bring you something to eat instead?  
  
I look down at the tome in front of me, that would be more than welcome. Thank you, Verden.  
  
I can feel his eyes on me, then he walks past me towards the door. Just under his breath, I can hear him whisper something that makes me narrow my eyes.  
  
_I would always endeavor to help an angel..._  
  
-----  
  
Sunday finds me in the library after the morning sermon. As usual I sat in the front pew; more unusual were my glances back, hoping that maybe Beowulf had attended as well. While I did see at least one man who I remembered as being a knight, there was no sign of Beowulf. I knew it was a futile search  
  
--_Church? Ah...I've never attended. Not in Lesalia, not in Bervenia...I usually just schedule myself for the morning shift on Sundays just so Buremonda won't bother me about my not attending church too_--  
  
but I still couldn't help but try.  
  
I was hoping that maybe he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him. Just a glance to see how he's doing, a smile to let me know that I didn't completely ruin our relationship...  
  
Other than that, though...I still don't know what to tell him.  
  
I can't bring myself to go over to the barracks...I just...  
  
That's scary.  
  
So here I am in the library, pretending to read through this book, which I've noticed ends at around two hundred years ago and is written in a style that is technically not ancient Ivalician but a variation of the modern speech that we use now. I wonder if Verden made a mistake giving me this tome?  
  
Not like it really matters.  
  
I...maybe I should go over to the barracks. Yes. At least just to talk to Chiroseau and ask him about Beowulf's well-being. That and advice. And...and if Beowulf's there, I'll talk to him. I'll tell him why I pushed him away that night.  
  
I pushed you away because I was afraid of hurting your feelings even more than I might've already.'  
  
I pushed you away because I can't show you how I feel anymore than I can tell you.'  
  
I pushed you away because I don't know if I love you like you love me.'  
  
I close my eyes.  
  
I pushed you away.'  
  
I have a feeling that...he's used to that. More than a feeling...it's the truth. No matter how kind and forgiving he may be, it's like...it's like I'm throwing back into his face all the kindness and affection he's shown me, not giving him the love he deserves. Just like that woman...his mother...  
  
_No_.  
  
I don't want to be compared to a woman like that!  
  
Crossing my arms on the table, I lay my head on them and stare at the tables on the other side of the hallway that runs straight through the center of the library.  
  
If I don't want to be compared to a woman like that, then I shouldn't act like that in the first place. Shoving away without reason, running away...I can only imagine what kind of message that had sent to him.  
  
I just wanted to get away from my thoughts at that moment.  
  
God! Whenever something happens to me emotionally, I always run! Now look what it's gotten me into...  
  
What I've gotten myself into.  
  
Beowulf...I'm so sorry that you have to put up with someone like me...after this, I can't blame you if you don't want to...  
  
If I go and see him now while I'm all wound up like this, it would probably just make matters worse. Just a little more time...  
  
Footsteps enter the library and I hastily sit up straight. These are lighter footsteps than Beowulf's, so they're probably Verden's. That's probably just as well, I could use some friendly--well, towards me--company.  
  
I look up as Verden walks past me, but he stops at the head of the table instead of going around to his usual seat. His face is drawn tightly, with pursed lips and eyes streamed with something that isn't tranquil. I glance down to his hands, which have something blue and gold in them...  
  
No...that isn't...  
  
I've heard something very interesting while talking to some of the parishioners after my sermon, he starts, his voice sounding deeper than usual, these particular people were nobles who had attended the ball this last Friday. Some of them were remarking upon two mysterious women at the ball, one of them being the daughter of the ambassador from the Eastern Lands, another being a woman from Limberry. Or, at least, according to one man, she sounded as if she were from Limberry.  
  
No...no...  
  
A woman with golden hair past her shoulders and light brown eyes, she wore an exquisite white dress with Holy Knight add-ons. An extremely beautiful woman, by all accounts. Her date was Sir Beowulf Kadmus, he pauses, staring at me in such a way...it feels like an invasion... I was surprised, to say the least.  
  
...I have no excuses, no evasive little words...nothing...  
  
I was amazed to hear that there is another woman out there who could possibly even match your description and yet not be you.  
  
...?  
  
What?  
  
He clears his throat and I start at the rough noise. After all, I know that you would not disobey a law of any sort, you are too pure-hearted for that... his voice softens at the last few words, I just thought you would be interested to know that.  
  
There's something wrong with this...  
  
Placing my collar onto the table, he smiles a bit tightly. One of the white mages found this outside your door and I figured that it was for one of those interesting outfits of yours, he pauses, his face going back to its normal serenity, to think, another woman with an appearance just like yours. Although, I would say that her morals are suspect.  
  
Those are _my_ morals you're referring to, Verden. Why would you say that?  
  
Or rather, she was not informed about her date's morals, what's that supposed to mean? if it weren't for the dubious amount of protection they afford to us, as well as Examiner Draclau's misplaced affection for them, those knights would've been run off out of Lionel a long time ago. They have no regard for the higher moral standard that the Church requires. It's a shame, he looks at me. For one blistering second, I want to glare back, do be careful, Reis. As a cataloger from Murond, I hold you to the highest moral standard.  
  
Out of gritted teeth, I try to form a response. Thank you for your consideration.  
  
It is only yourself you have to thank. Like I once said, to my eyes you are a queen of angels, he closes his eyes, but even angels have fallen, as Saint Ajora has told us. Anyway, I have some work to attend to. I hope to see you soon, Reis.  
  
I'll hope for the opposite. Goodbye, Verden.  
  
Silently he pads away and out of the library. Good. I look at my crumbled collar sitting innocently next to me.  
  
He knew. I saw it in his demeanor. He _knew_.  
  
What is he doing this for?  
  
A queen among angels', hm?  
  
_--Because...you're real. You're not an impassive, serene angel_--  
  
This angel' fell a long time ago.  
  
_--You're realistic, and you're empathic, and you're...alive--  
  
_Don't shove me into some idealistic image, Verden.  
  
I don't wish to be protected by the likes of you.  
  
-----  
  
I want to go back to Murond.  
  
It's safer there. The priests are kind but not intrusive, the knights are more concerned with training, and the white mages are sweet, innocent girls.  
  
Here in Lionel, the priest is invasive, the knights will stop and cheerfully talk to anyone in their path, and the white mages have definitely deviated from their roots and become women who only care about their own affairs. God only knows how much a normal cataloger would change from Murond to here.  
  
I hardly consider myself normal.  
  
It's been four or so months since I left Murond. When will I be transferred back? I'm not even helping the person from whose orders I was sent here by. And, as far as translations go, I've heard that Orbonne Monastery needs them far more than a tiny library with a glass ceiling.  
  
That loneliness I felt, that willingness to forget all of my memories as Reis Dular of Bariaus Hill, my inability to help myself...they weren't that bad compared to the anger I feel for Verden, the confusion and pain and the different sort of loneliness because of my treatment of Beowulf, and my overall frustration at myself.  
  
Emotions are overrated, I think.  
  
Staring at all these words, the individual letters...nothing makes sense anymore. It's Wednesday, two full days since Verden last stopped by, and I can't translate a single word.  
  
It was easier being a blank slate, frozen in emotional stasis...at least I was competent at my job then.  
  
Here's the library, Alia.  
  
Oh, wow, look at that huge glass pane in the ceiling!  
  
It's not just one pane, it's an entire skylight. It was here before I was.  
  
Wow, I didn't realize that Lionel was so well off compared to Dorter!  
  
This is new. I've never seen anybody other than Verden or Izlude--or his sister, but that shouldn't count--specifically coming into the library for any reason at all. The woman of the two sounds like a pilgrim...a rather loud one at that.  
  
Two sets of footsteps--light female and medium male--enter the library. I hope they leave me alone and leave quickly. Oh, Miss Dular, the male of the two says, sounding friendly. Holding in a sigh--I'm never lucky anymore, it seems--I look up into a serious-looking man's and a happy-looking female's faces. They're a couple, it seems.  
  
It's nice to be a part of something...  
  
That man...he's one of the knights at the door to the castle. Dark-haired...he's the one who greeted me. I also saw him in church...is he Mikner or Riola...?  
  
You may not remember me, but I greeted you at the castle, he smiles, locks of brown hair falling into bright green eyes, my name's Samuel Riola, of the Lionel Holy Knights.  
  
He's very polite. Reis Dular, I bow slightly in my seated position, ...although you already know me...  
  
How is Beowulf doing?  
  
I'm here too, Riola's female companion pokes him in the side, smiling when he winces and blushes. She turns to me, hazel eyes just as bright as his eyes, I'm Alia Mikner, this guy's-- she pokes him again, --fiancé. I just moved here from Dorter a day or so ago. He wanted to pick up a book, she leans towards me, he's really religious.  
  
You don't have to say that like it's a crime, he sounds exasperated, I'll be right back, they share a look before he wanders towards the back of the library.  
  
Ah...why did he leave her here?  
  
Alia smiles at me. I'm going to keep you company, kay? Sammy hates it when I follow him around cause he says all I ever do is complain. Yeah, whatever, she shrugs, long golden hair moving like water as she takes the seat across from me. I've never heard anyone talk like she does, so...isn't it a bit hot to be wearing a long-necked blouse?  
  
My right hand immediately goes up to my neck, touching the mark along the left side of it. It's faded considerably from the last few days into a mere discoloration, but with my skin color it still looks very visible. No, I don't tend to feel hot or cold very often, I suppose that's a good excuse.  
  
she makes a face. I can't help but feel calmed by her presence...she's very different than what I've seen in Lionel. She's a bit like Peppermint... say, I hear you're like super-popular!  
  
...'Super-popular'...? Um, that's odd terminology. ...Why do you say that?  
  
Because all the knights say that you're the most beautiful woman in all of Lionel! She grins. So, it's really lucky that I look like you, even though I have Sammy... she quickly looks behind her, but Riola is paging through a book and doesn't seem to be paying attention to anything said over here, but I heard you have someone too, right?  
  
I look down, touching the mark on my neck. The last tangible link I have to him...  
  
Y'know, when I was hanging out with Sammy and Ryan--my cousin, Ryan Mikner--I got a glimpse of Sir Kadmus. I hear he's been holing himself up in his office, I lower my head slightly. Oh... I think he thought I was you for a second, cause he looked pleasantly surprised and stuff, but then he realized that I was someone _completely_ different, so he got all depressed looking and went to his office, she takes in a deep breath, I thought that was weird, but Sammy told me it was probably because I look like you, just, y'know, not as beautiful.  
  
...She talks so differently from the normal proper speech patterns. Then again, Dorter's a big trade city, so who knows what sort of speech patterns exist there. I can't think of a single thing to say. I mean, what should I respond to first?  
  
Beowulf...depressed? Because of me...  
  
I don't even know her...why is she telling me all these things?  
  
Y'know, if you don't do something soon, this situation will become bigger than it really should, Alia says quietly. I look at her and her serious expression...what a sudden change, I mean, Sir Kadmus has more people depending on him than just you. He's a knight, but he's also a leader. He's already affected all the knights in this town; how long before he gets to everyone in this region? And, like, I've heard other things, she narrows her eyes, something about a priest calling him in Monday. I heard that was really bad. So, y'know...  
  
You should really stop being so self-centered and talk to him.  
  
I lower my eyes, blankly staring at the text that won't tell me what it says. Thank you for your advice, Miss Alia.  
  
It's a little more complicated than that.  
  
Even though all this is completely my fault...I'm scared...  
  
Someone like myself really shouldn't have the ability to affect another person so much. I don't even know myself. I don't understand many of my own feelings. And now I'm being called self-centered' because I didn't immediately rectify the situation, because I'm afraid, because I don't know what to say...  
  
Because I'm the person I am.  
  
I don't know how to change that.  
  
How...how do I change that?  
  
Geez...I feel bad saying that, y'know, I look up at her and her shining hazel eyes, but I have to for Sammy's sake. Sammy really... she looks away, speaking quietly, he got the worst job.  
  
I don't understand...?  
  
I found a book, Alia, Riola smiles as he approaches us. He looks at me almost guiltily, Miss Dular, I know you don't check out books or anything, but do you mind if I borrow this? He shows me the cover of the tome he's holding...it's just a book on religious theory. I nod and he smiles at me. Thank you, Miss Dular. Alia, shall we go?  
  
Alia stands up, taking Riola's hand in the process, and she waves at me. It was great meeting you, Reis! Let's talk again!  
  
Does she really mean those words?  
  
They leave, but not before I hear, It isn't as bad as you think it is. There's no way he... before they're too far away to listen to. It probably doesn't have anything to do with me.  
  
I already have enough on my mind as is.  
  
I wish I were back in Murond.  
  
-----  
  
Today's my day off. Friday...it was just a week ago today that I was finishing the last touches on my dress, feeling a happy sort of nervousness because of my dress, because of all the people, because it was such a huge risk on our part but we were going anyway...  
  
I've never really thought about it, but...what kind of risk was our relationship to Beowulf?  
  
--_I want to be with you, and he can't do anything to me anyway_--  
  
That's what he said, but was that really the truth?  
  
How much was he risking just to be with me?  
  
Am I really worth it?  
  
I turn over in my too-short bed, back facing the window already streaming light into my room. I used to get ten hours of sleep easily, but now I can barely seem to get half of that.  
  
The risk was worth it to me. I never really even had to think about it.  
  
I just wanted to be near him.  
  
...If that was really true, would the issue of love have worried me as much?  
  
--_You should really stop being so self-centered and talk to him_--  
  
What do I say? What can I say?  
  
I don't know if I can tell him what he needs to hear, what he deserves to hear. I'm scared that he'll tell me that...God, I can't really imagine him saying anything bad' to me. He's always treated me with respect and kindness, and I...  
  
Why me, Beowulf? Why did you decide that you loved someone like me? You just suddenly said  
  
--_I love you_--  
  
and now I'm stuck behind you, desperately trying to catch up, but...  
  
--_Maybe that's your problem, Miss Reis...you're forcing it_--  
  
I hate this.  
  
Maybe I should go back to sleep.  
  
-----  
  
--knoknok--  
  
Groggily I sit up on my bed. Is someone knocking on my door?  
  
--knoknoknok--  
  
I guess so. Rubbing at my eyes with my hands, I walk over to the door and open it slightly. I don't want whoever's on the other side to see me in my nightgown.   
  
There's a white mage on the other side, a few letters in her small hands. She looks at me oddly. Miss Dular? Some letters arrived for you.  
  
Oh, it's Friday. Holding out my hands, I look at the name of the sender on the top envelope. Penelope Mishima' ...Peppermint? Thank you very much, I almost attempt a smile, but my face doesn't seem to want to cooperate.  
  
You're welcome, she says, pulling down her hood so that her short blond hair is exposed, by the way, it's almost four in the afternoon. Did you just wake up?  
  
...Hm, I didn't think that I'd slept that long. I haven't received a lot of sleep lately, she nods warily at this, that odd look still on her face, then she walks down the hall. I close the door and walk over to my bed, plopping down on it and scooting up to prop my back against the wall. The light from the window above my head is still there, though not as bright as it would be if it were morning.  
  
Looking at the two letters in my hands, I smile. Other than Peppermint, Izlude also wrote. I open the envelope easily. I wonder what my little brother has to say...  
  
_Dear Big Sister Reis,  
  
I'm in Bervenia right now with Father and Meliadoul. There's nice weather here, really bright and sunny but not terribly hot. Is that the same for Lionel? We're all doing fine; you are too, right?  
  
Meliadoul and I entered a contest for dueling. It wasn't very big like the ones they have sometimes in Murond, but it was still a lot of fun. One of the knights in Lionel has family here, and his children were competing too. I won against Pietre Chiroseau; he was a lot younger than me but he was still pretty skilled. My sister went up against Aimiere Chiroseau in the finals. The battle really surprised me because I always thought that my sister was the best but the duel really showed that there are other people just as good. I always thought that the best fighters were all in Murond. That's what Father always said, and that's what Meliadoul and I always strive to follow. To be as good as Father and to be worthy as Shrine Knights of the Glabados Church would be the best honors to ever receive.  
  
I don't think I would've been good enough if it weren't for you, Big Sister. When I think about you, I know that I have to keep on trying for my dream. How are you doing with your dream? I really believe that you're trying even harder than I am. I bet you'll succeed faster than me, too. Father told me I was improving after my win at the tournament and that made me really happy, but I want to hear from you too. I hope that we can stop by at Lionel again, unless we're going to Murond via Dorter or something. I miss you a lot.  
  
-Izlude Tingel  
  
P.S. Please send your reply to Murond because we're leaving Bervenia on the 20th of July.  
  
P.P.S. I'm sorry this letter took so long. It was hard to write it all out in ancient Ivalician. I hope you can read it!_  
  
I smile. He spent a lot of time on this letter, I can tell. Each letter is printed so neatly...he really is such a determined boy. Considering that it's only the sixth of August, I think this letter arrived here pretty quickly. Maybe that says something about the war...  
  
Now for Peppermint's letter...  
  
_Dear Reis,  
  
I bet the name on the envelope confused you at first, right? Takeo and I were married on the same day we arrived in Warjilis. Nothing fancy, of course, and we settled down to the married life right afterward. It was pretty hard at first, because of money issues and such, but then the best opportunity happened! See, Takeo used to work on the docks and I was working the odd proposition that came at the local bar, when one day I heard about this gambler who travels the world. So I convinced Takeo to come with me to talk to Mr. Gabbiani, the gambler who owns the Blackjack, which is a very awesome ship/casino hybrid. To make a long story short, we're now traveling the world as a bodyguard and cook/healer, respectively. This also means that this is the last letter I can send for a while, and you can't reply to this. I'm sorry, but it was the perfect opportunity!  
  
I've talked about myself enough. How are you doing? How are you doing with Sir Kadmus? Takeo sometimes talks about the times he had with the Knights (the Order, he calls them...I don't understand it either) and it really seems as if it's the way it is because of Sir Kadmus. You should be proud that you even caught the attention of that guy, although I think that for you it wasn't such a hard thing at all. I bet you think that isn't true, that it wasn't you, but I really think you should have more faith in yourself. You know, faith is a very important thing, and I don't mean for religious purposes. If you have faith in yourself, then I think that everything else comes into place a lot more easily.  
  
Am I rambling on too much? I'm sorry. I really would've loved to see your reply to this letter. The Blackjack is actually supposed to head to the Eastern Lands next. Takeo is so excited to introduce me to his parents, so he keeps teaching me random bits of his native language. I thought it was nice to be that excited about going home and seeing family, but I guess that's not possible for me...but that's not really important. Anyway, I hope that everything's going well for you, and the next time I see you, I hope we can introduce ourselves to each other as Mrs. Mishima' and Mrs. Kadmus'!  
  
-Peppermint_  
  
It seems as if Peppermint is really happy...  
  
--_If you have faith in yourself, then I think that everything else comes into place a lot more easily_--  
  
Faith' ...hm.  
  
I've...never really thought about that before. I've never thought about believing in myself because I never needed to in order to make it day by day.  
  
How does one obtain faith, anyway?  
  
It seems like such a silly thing to ask.  
  
I close my eyes, moving my letters off onto my pillow. Faith...  
  
Beowulf is an easy person to believe in, unlike Verden. So I guess that means I have faith in Beowulf. But in myself...  
  
--_I don't think I would've been good enough if it weren't for you, Big Sister. When I think about you, I know that I have to keep on trying for my dream_--  
  
If other people can depend on me, maybe...maybe I should live up to that. In fact, I should _because_ people believe in me. Izlude would probably be so disappointed in me if he saw me like this.  
  
Opening my eyes slightly, I can see my door, so close to me...  
  
I can't expect to do anything by just sitting around and worrying. Peppermint would probably tell me that I need to have faith in myself and that I should do something instead of...instead of angsting about it.  
  
I smile slightly. Yes, she would really hate what I'm doing right now.  
  
I'll wait for him at our place. It's a bit of a stretch to think that he'll arrive, but maybe...  
  
Is that a little bit of what faith is?  
  
-----  
  
Feeling nice and clean after a long soak in the bath, I brush out my hair while sitting on my bed, dressed in a long cerulean dress over a short-sleeved white blouse. I think I'll leave my hair down. It's not as if this is a date or something. I've never felt this nervous about any of our dates.  
  
I still don't know what to say, but I do want to apologize. That's a start, right?  
  
Slipping on my black boots, I head for the door, quietly closing it behind me. It's already dark. There's a twisty nervousness in my stomach that I can't ignore. It churns more and more as I approach the back of the church, but I can't go back now.  
  
No more running away, Reis. Mama never ran. If I can be a tenth as strong as she is, I can do this.  
  
I will do this.  
  
There's a dark figure standing next to the sill we usually sit on. The new moon makes it a lot harder to see, but of course it's Beowulf.  
  
My stomach abruptly compresses at this realization, but I grit my teeth and keep going.  
  
I have to keep going.  
  
He looks over at me with colorless eyes, lips curving into a tentative smile as I approach. Oh...it seems he's somewhat pleased to see me... my eyes widen. I really missed the sound of his voice...  
  
I stop just before him. If I raised my arm, I would touch him. I want to touch him, I want to hug him, I want to believe that this last week never happened, it's been a while, hasn't it?  
  
Oh, God...that wasn't an obvious statement...  
  
he trails off, ah, sit down. Please.  
  
... I move past him, my arm brushing past his as I walk to the sill. Sitting in the middle of it, I watch as he glances at me, then at the spaces on either side of me, finally opting to sit close enough to me to touch me, but it still feels as if I have a lot of room.  
  
I feel isolated.  
  
I stare at my hands in my lap. What should I say?  
  
Apologize first, then everything will be easier from there...  
  
Okay. Sure. I understand.  
  
Painfully, I raise my head. Beowulf, I--  
  
I'm sorry, Reis.  
  
...? What...what's he sorry about?   
  
He looks over at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to force you into doing anything you're not comfortable doing.  
  
...Wait. Are we still talking about the same night? I clearly remember that he was more hesitant than I was, so why... Beowulf...what are you saying?  
  
...Chiroseau told me that you had been confused about how you felt about me, he looks away, out into the moonless night, that you felt that you needed to return my feelings. I didn't know you felt like that, that you would go so far just to... he stops, looking over at me with an almost tangible pain in his eyes, I said it was fine if you didn't share my feelings. You don't need to push yourself into doing things for my sake.  
  
I close my eyes. It's not that he's wrong, because he really isn't, but... You say that...as if I hadn't enjoyed it as well.  
  
I can't deny that. I wouldn't want to.  
  
He looks faintly disbelieving when I open my eyes. It's hard to believe that when you pushed me away and stared at me as if I were--  
  
It wasn't because I was scared of you that I pushed you away! Jumping up, hands clenched at my sides, I stare at him with stinging eyes. Why isn't this conversation going the way I thought it would?  
  
Can't I pull him back to me?  
  
Yes, I'll admit that I thought I could show you how I truly felt instead of telling you. It's hard...it's hard for me to tell people important things, and that's my own fault, I can feel my nails digging into my palms. There's a waver in my voice that won't go away. I sound weak and scared and I am, but...  
  
I hate this.  
  
It was a bad idea, I whisper, trying to regain control of my voice, and I hate that I thought that I could use the easier way when it comes to you. I hate myself for that, and I hate that my first instinct was to run away instead of talking things out. I hate that I have such an effect on you because I don't deserve it.  
  
I hate this!  
  
Reis, calm down, it's okay... his voice is soothing and kind but I can't let myself feel any of that.  
  
I'm not done yet. If I calm down, I'll never be able to finish. I need to tell him...  
  
I don't understand it, you know. I don't understand how you can tell someone as emotionally ruined as I am that you love me, staring into his face, I can see his shock in his widened eyes and slightly agape mouth. He's never seen me like this. I'm sorry for that, you do know that, right? I can't tell you how I arrived in Murond even if I wanted to. I can't tell you why I never made a friend in the almost eight years I was there.  
  
Keep going...  
  
But I can tell you this: it's because of you that I'm even willing to talk to other people now. It's because of you that I can even stand to go through my memories and enjoy them. It's because of you that I'm standing here, telling you what I hate about myself. It's because of you that I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions, so don't even apologize to me about something I wanted, I finish, taking a deep breath.  
  
I don't think I've ever talked that much at one time in my life.  
  
His eyes widen, looking completely surprised...then he lowers his head, eyes closing with that movement. Reis...I don't want you to say anything for my sake, especially that...  
  
...That hurts.  
  
Am I that untrustworthy...?  
  
Beowulf...what did I say that you don't believe? My voice is soft, yet it's not wavering for once. I'm proud of that.  
  
His eyes flicker up to my face momentarily, completely drained of emotion. It's not that I don't believe you. You just... he sighs heavily, I think you're giving me far too much credit.  
  
Well...  
  
--_Well then, consider me your big sister when it comes to matters like this_--  
  
--_I want to be your brother_--  
  
--_Miss Reis, I'm not Kadmus, but...would you tell me what is bothering you?_--  
  
Of course, there are others who've helped me become the person I am now, but... That may be true, but you're the most important person to me, please believe me...  
  
_I love you, Beowulf_.  
  
Lowering my head, I slowly begin to smile.  
  
--_Do you feel as if you absolutely have to return his feelings?_--  
  
I don't have' to.  
  
I just do.  
  
Raising my head slightly, I can see that Beowulf seems a bit...I'm not sure. But he's smiling, so that must be a good sign. You're the most important person to me, Reis, his eyes stay on my face he stands up and steps up to me. He places his hands on my shoulders, then they move to my back as he embraces me tightly, I'm sorry, Reis.  
  
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I can't help but smile. God, I missed this feeling of being securely surrounded... About what?  
  
Doubting you, he hugs me tighter, a hand entangled in my loose hair as the other presses against my back, ...I missed you.  
  
I close my eyes. I missed you too, Beowulf.  
  
He has every right to doubt me. I wish that wasn't true, but my own actions alone were probably enough that he couldn't just believe anything I said without worrying about the intent behind my words.  
  
Maybe words and actions are dependent of each other, so it's not such a great idea to substitute one for the other.  
  
I'll keep that in mind.  
  
Next time, if you feel strange about something I've said or done, can you please come up to me and tell me? I'm not a mind-reader, he kisses the top of my head and I sigh happily, and I'd really rather not go through another week like this.  
  
That's fine by me. Then let me take responsibility for my own mistakes. I didn't like hearing you apologize for something I basically started, I look up at him, and I'm not quite sure why he's smiling like that...  
  
Let's go get some dinner, Beowulf slowly releases me, taking my hand, it's a nice night.  
  
even though I'm dressed in rather plain clothes, and I'm still a bit surprised at tonight's events...well, it's made me hungry.  
  
Besides, I get to spend time with the man I love.  
  
Soon...soon I'll tell him. At a calmer time, in a calmer place, I'll be sure to tell him.  
  
_I love you, Beowulf_.

-End to chapter 17-

I wrote this and the next chapter--actually a long interlude--together because I have both finals and picking next semester's classes for the next couple of weeks and I'd like to try this weird thing called studying'. But I'll still post on time next week.  
  
- Chantage': a perfume with a peaceful scent'. This one's hugely popular because it has Always: Reraise and Regen. Steal it off of Meliadoul in the Bervenia fight or poach it from a Porky.  
  
-Because I love FFVI the most, I had to put in a reference to Setzer independent of the propositions you get about him in the game.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Luna, Eternity' is a great song. Actually, most of Akino Arai's songs are wonderful. Hm...Chieko's just that way. No other reason. I do have a sketch of Reis' dress, but I don't have a scanner or else I would've put it up on my author profile. Meh.  
Delita reminds me of the French Revolution. Y'know, the whole Ragh! Let's kill off some nobles and make ourselves king!' mentality, just...a lot more subtle. As for his complexity as a character...I'm not sure if he's so much complex' as he is the poster child of When bad things happen to good people', just with exponentially stronger feelings. He's definitely had some extremes, but it's understandable. I'd like to see a detailed fanfic about Delita as well, cause there's no way I'd write one. Why don't you write it?  
  
Thank you, Josh, for answering...and so promptly, too! Well, this is the only way I know how to write, so I guess I can only hope to get better. Thank you once again, and I'll be sure to keep the quality as high as you expect it to be!  
  
I wonder where Mavina is...it's weird not seeing her all of a sudden...  
  
Ahem. Thank you very much for reading! This is now officially the longest story I've ever had the pleasure of writing, but it's still not anywhere near done yet! If you have any questions or comments, please don't hesitate to tell me!  
  
Interlude #1: The Lionel Holy Knights_Clasped Hands_: I think what I really love most about this place is being with the Knights. I'm not the only one who feels this way, either. It's like being with a dysfunctional family...okay, it's less melodramatic than that. But if something should happen to any one of us, the rest of us would immediately run and help that guy.  
  
That's what family is for, right?' 


	18. Interlude 1: The Lionel Holy Knights

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

My name is Samuel Riola. Most people call me Sam or Riola. Only four people have ever called me Sammy, and my parents and little brother are already dead.  
  
But I digress.  
  
I'm twenty-four years old and a Taurus, born May twelfth in Pantora twenty-three. I'm a Knight Blade, which is the lowest ranking of the elite knights. I would've been one of the youngest White Knights in history, but after that incident four years ago...never mind. It's already done with, no need to bring up old news.  
  
Igros is my hometown, and I used to be a part of the Hokuten. But after my stint with them, I decided to fully enter the Church and join the Shrine Knights. I served in Warjilis for a couple of months before I was transferred to Lionel castle town. I've been here ever since...just a little over two years. It's a nice town, all lively and bustling. Nothing like Igros, but you can't have everything.  
  
I think what I really love most about this place is being with the Knights. I'm not the only one who feels this way, either. It's like being with a dysfunctional family...okay, it's less melodramatic than that. But if something should happen to any one of us, the rest of us would immediately run and help that guy.  
  
That's what family is for, right?  
  
---------  
  
Interlude #1: The Lionel Holy Knights  
  
Ahh, damn that was a lotta hours!  
  
Every year, Lionel castle town holds a ball for all the nobles. It's really big and really fancy, and if I'm really lucky I only have to work eighteen hours straight because of it. Sir Kadmus is still fixing out the kinks with scheduling, but basically we all have to work two straight shifts, seven at night to one in the morning, and one in the morning to seven in the morning. Like last year, I got the one in the afternoon to seven at night shift on that day, so by the time I finish my eighteen hours I just want to sleep for a day. Maybe two.  
  
Eh, Sam, don't you think that was too much? And meanwhile, Sir Kadmus gets to go _to_ the ball with that hella beautiful Reis...man, he picked a good one to break the rules with...  
  
I turn to my good friend, Ryan Mikner. He has a penchant for ruining the Ivalician language. I say wearily, what was that word you used?  
  
He looks over at me, brown eyes rimmed with red, which one?  
  
That one you said before   
  
Oh, hella'? What about it?  
  
My eyes hurt. I run my gloved hands through my longish bangs, trying to stay awake long enough to reach the barracks and my bed. Nah, the floor's good enough for me. The others lagging behind us can stumble over my body for all I care. That seriously can't be a real word, I mutter, even for those weirdoes in Warjilis.  
  
Hey, that's my hometown you're talking about, he grins. That's disgusting that he can still use up that much energy after almost a day straight of patrolling, have some respect.  
  
Sure, when you have some respect for the Ivalician language, oh, I can see the door to the barracks just ahead...  
  
Hey, my cousin is just as bad and you're still marrying her, he retorts. He's got a point there.  
  
Alia Mikner is my fiancé. Like the cousin she's two years older than, she's got this ability to keep talking and using weird words while she does so, except... Yeah, but there's this fundamental difference between the two of you.  
  
He looks at me curiously. What's that? She's got breasts?  
  
...Other than that. I can stand her, I say dryly, looking straight ahead. My vision usually isn't this blurry... that's the door up ahead, right?  
  
he looks at me oddly, you okay?  
  
I nod once, eyes focused only on the door. Don't worry about me. Hey, Sir Kadmus is probably asleep, so keep it down.  
  
Ryan grabs my upper arm, steadying me. I needed that. I betcha he's not there.  
  
I glance at him. Where's he going to be if he's not sleeping?  
  
Maybe he's with Miss Reis, he grins.  
  
It's seven in the morning, what would he be doing with Miss Dular at seven in the m-oh, yeah, maybe the others are right when they say I'm naive, I'll take that bet, I say confidently. Sir Kadmus is nothing if not proper, and Miss Dular...no, there's no way.  
  
Ryan reaches the door, smirking at me. Let's find out, hm? He pushes the door open and we step inside. No deep breathing, no body on the top bunk in the upper left-hand corner of the room, nothing...  
  
Oh my God. He was actually right about something.  
  
He laughs. Well, Sir Kadmus is human, right?  
  
I guess. Same for Miss Dular too. Still, it's seven. The sun's rising, the church is probably waking up right now...they'd have to be idiots to still be in bed at this hour. Like it or not--and all of us knights hate it after Takeo left to be with his exiled girlfriend--but that's still breaking the rules.  
  
I'll think about it later. Right now, I'm ready to collapse.  
  
-----  
  
Geez. It's bright in here. Covering my eyes with my left forearm, I yawn. Hey, anybody here?  
  
Ryan says in the bunk above mine, most of the others went to the baths or for lunch, and Sir Kadmus is in his office.  
  
But I didn't hear him respond. You sure?  
  
The bed creaks above my head. Yeah, the door's closed.  
  
He never closes the door, though, Sir Kadmus is very much a wander in and talk to me, I don't mind!' sort of person, you sure he's there?  
  
Yeah, I saw him walk in bout an hour after we got in--  
  
You were still awake then? It's one thing to make up weird words, but that's just disturbing.  
  
Well, _you_ were snoring, and Klassner and Quinely were talking in their sleep, he sounds annoyed. I raise an eyebrow. I didn't know I snore, anyway, Sir Kadmus was pissed off and he closed his door. Been like that all day.  
  
Wait, wait. We really talking about the same guy? Sure it was Sir Kadmus? That guy's perpetually in a good mood.  
  
Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. He definitely wasn't happy, though.  
  
Hm. Then he probably wasn't with Miss Dular this morning, God, I feel like a woman, talking behind Sir Kadmus' back like this.  
  
It's still kind of interesting, though.  
  
The bunk creaks more and more until Ryan jumps off the end, going over to me and sitting on the lower bunk to my right. Guess he messed up pretty bad when they... he trails off suggestively, and I roll my eyes.  
  
Thanks for that horrible thought, well, if I'm awake now... can you reach under my bunk and grab my paper and a pen?  
  
Sure thing, bro, he mutters. I raise an eyebrow. Another one of his weird words? He grabs my sheaf of papers and a pen, tossing them on my stomach, you writing to Lia?  
  
I don't have anybody else to write to, I say quietly, moving back so I can sit up, collecting all my papers and fetching my pen. Mom and Dad died during a looting spree in Igros back in thirty-nine. It's common even now because all the useful Hokuten are at Bethla, and all the bad Hokuten...well, they're usually the ones doing the looting.  
  
Daniel, my younger brother by about two years, joined this tiny group, the Knights of Death, because he felt that they had noble goals. We're from a merchant family, so I don't know why he joined them and their commoners deserve the same rights as the nobility' goals, but he did. He got killed at a skirmish about four years ago, the same time my other problem started, and I haven't really stopped to think about his death. I don't even know if he got to be buried next to our parents, or if they thought he was just some fool commoner and burned his body with the rest of them.  
  
Although I have complete faith in God, I can't help wonder why He would let things like that happen to people who follow Him faithfully.  
  
and he says it sincerely, but he's got both his parents still alive and Alia in Dorter...well, I can't take it any deeper than face value, when's she moving here?  
  
She's supposed to be here already, but she still doesn't have clearance for Cherise yet, Cherise is her pet cockatoris. Alia used to be a monster tamer for the Touten before they decided to let her go for insubordination, but Sir Kadmus said two weeks ago that he cleared her, so I don't know what's going on.  
  
Ryan groans and smacks his palm against his forehead. That damned bird's still freakin' alive?! I thought I killed that thing a year ago!  
  
On his break last year, Ryan went to Dorter to stay with Alia. Cherise put Stone Feather' or whatever on him, and all the stores were closed for a couple days due to a freak snowstorm. He was a statue for three days, and he swore that he was going to carve up the bird and serve it for his own birthday one of these days. Yeah, like Alia would let him.  
  
The people of Warjilis sure do talk funny down there. I'm going to buy you a dictionary one of these days, just so you know what a real' word is.  
  
he stands up, I think I'll go out as a civilian for a while and grab an early supper. Tell Lia I said hi', okay?  
  
I wave him away. Okay, anything interesting happen lately that I can tell Alia?  
  
-----  
  
Okay, so I totally didn't understand that, Ryan says while we head back to the barracks. Since it's Sunday, we had the one in the morning to seven in the morning shift, which is always good because I have time to wash up before going to church, so, if it turns out that the bard is the murderer, how can he be if he's seen with a harp?  
  
Rei Tanaka, a Knight Blade from the Eastern Lands, often tells everybody these mysteries' with a hidden culprit. Seems like the answer for his latest one is that the bard did it, but that's a weird answer when the victim had stab wounds. Well, I guess he'd have to be equipped with a sword.  
  
But he wasn't seen with a sword, he was seen with a harp.  
  
Okay, fine. Maybe he carried a dagger on him.  
  
But he wasn't seen with a dagger, he was seen with a harp, he sounds as frustrated as I feel.  
  
Look, maybe he hid the dagger in his cape, or in his harp... I reach the door first, pushing it open slightly--  
  
What's been bothering you lately?  
  
Ryan and I look at each other. Who's Sir Chiroseau talking to this early in the morning?  
  
You don't have to worry about me. I'm still productive, aren't I?  
  
Sir Kadmus, huh? If it's a private conversation, that'd explain why we ran into a lot of the others while heading back up here.  
  
It's not your productivity I'm worried about. As a friend, I've noticed that you were really distracted yesterday. Pause. And I'd think that you'd have been talking about the time you had with Miss Reis at the ball by now.  
  
I'd rather not talk about that.  
  
Why? Did something happen at the ball?  
  
...Not exactly.  
  
Did something happen after the ball? There's a long pause. I can see it on your face that something happened.  
  
...I've heard these words before. That time...  
  
I...I didn't think I was forcing her--  
  
You didn't...Kadmus, what did you do?  
  
I didn't think that I was doing anything wrong, the answer is terse. I wince at the words because  
  
--_I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, Sir Beoulve, I swear that!_--  
  
they're familiar.  
  
That's not what I was asking. I thought you loved her--  
  
How do you know that?  
  
Because she told me. She told me how you told her your feelings, and how she felt as if she had to return them. She said that you deserved it the most...how can you manipulate a young woman's feelings like that?  
  
I would never do that to Reis! I didn't know she felt as if she had to...had to do anything for my sake...I never knew that she thought that way...  
  
What would you have done?  
  
I would've talked to her. I would've told her that I don't mind if she can't tell me she loves me, that I love her regardless. And I would've told her that she doesn't need to comply to my wants just for my sake.  
  
Kadmus...did you touch her?  
  
I...I only did what I thought she wanted me to do.  
  
I see.  
  
What's that supposed to mean?  
  
It means that I think I understand, but at the same time...Miss Reis is like a daughter to me. She's like Aimee to me. So, I believe what you're saying right now, but if Miss Reis should come to me and tell me otherwise, I won't hesitate to act.  
  
You're a good knight, Chiroseau.  
  
But not a good friend, right?  
  
I think you make a better father than a friend. If you'll excuse me, I have work.  
  
Don't you think that the best thing to do is to talk to Miss Reis and get everything cleared up?  
  
There's the sound of footsteps going deeper into the building. She may not have loved me before, Sir Kadmus' voice is soft, but I think she definitely hates me now, there is the sound of a door closing, then the creaking of a bunk as weight settles on it.  
  
Looking at Ryan, he seems frozen, his color paling considerably. And I...  
  
--_No, Sir Beoulve, I swear on the Holy Saint himself that I had no involvement whatsoever. I am a religious man, just like you. I have a girlfriend whom I love dearly. I have a family name that I want to honor--  
  
_What is this..._  
  
--I would never participate in any of the rapes that my superior committed_--  
  
-----  
  
Wake up, Riola!  
  
Groggily I open my eyes. Looks like it's morning... The hell? Something going on?  
  
Yeah, meeting, that first voice speaks again...sounds like Rican Jossler...I never see him anymore, hurry up, before either of them come back!  
  
Either of who? I move off my bunk and stand up, already seeing that the barracks is filled with knights. That's a weird thing cause most of us are usually out, even if we don't have a shift to work. But right now there's about fourteen of us crowding the interior of the building. What's going on? I ask, looking at everybody's grim, set faces. No Sir Kadmus or Sir Chiroseau though...  
  
I told them what we heard yesterday, Sam, Ryan says somewhere to my left. Too many people in here to see him clearly, though, everybody who has their shift from seven to one has already been filled in too.  
  
Yesterday...?  
  
--_I didn't think that I was doing anything wrong_--  
  
Oh. That. I see, my throat feels dry, so what about it?  
  
We gotta do something about it, Jacob Yuil, a Dark Knight from Fovoham, speaks up. He shakes his head minutely, blond hair moving slightly, I mean, Sir Kadmus having problems is one thing, but if Sir Chiroseau thinks that Sir Kadmus is capable of doing..._that_...it could cause big problems to the Order if these bad feelings seep in any longer. I mean, they won't even talk to each other now.  
  
Everybody, including me, nods at this. So, what can we do? Terrin Ewon, another Dark Knight and the resident jokester of the Knights, asks.  
  
Well, if Mishima was still here, we could've done a two-pronged attack, Wylen Narro points out. Like Takeo, he's also a Holy Knight. He's got a point there: Takeo's girlfriend was a white mage, so she could've talked to Miss Dular or something.  
  
As it is, we've only got one plan, and that's to get Sir Kadmus to talk to Miss Dular, our only White Knight, Ren Oyama, shrugs, and we can't bombard him or else it won't work, so only one of us can talk to him.  
  
I'll agree to that. Fine, but who?  
  
Someone who's calm, dependable, and knows a lot about dealing with women and...that sort of thing, Ryan starts, and everybody starts staring at me, Sam, you wanna do it?  
  
Looking into everybody's eyes, from blue to green to brown and hazel, I feel a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach.  
  
I don't really want to get involved, but for the sake of the Order...  
  
I say quietly, I'll do it. Got a deadline for this?  
  
But I don't want to do this. After four years...I don't want to dredge up all those old memories again, especially not when Alia's due to arrive soon.  
  
For the both of us, that was the hardest time in our relationship. The charges, the stigma, and trying desperately to make her believe that I wasn't capable of those sort of things...  
  
Oh, Holy Saint who resides in Heaven with thy Father, help me...  
  
-----  
  
Freshly dressed in civilian clothing, I walk out of the barracks, still thinking about what I should say to Sir Kadmus. It's only Monday night, half a day since I was elected' to talk to him, and all I've gotten so far is a headache.  
  
I'll go to the church and pray for guidance. That always helps me...  
  
  
  
Alia...? I turn around and there she is, long blond hair streaming down to her waist, large hazel eyes shining, looking so cute in a long blue dress with no sleeves. I smile when she runs up to me and hugs me. By the Holy Saint, Alia, it's been forever... wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her head. Still as short as ever...  
  
It's only been six months since I've last seen her, but...God, I really missed her.  
  
Feels like it, huh? She pulls back slightly, grinning up at me. Actually, I finally got here a couple days ago and got all moved into that house you helped get, so... her eyes narrow slightly as her grin shifts into her normal smile, when are you gonna move in?  
  
I blush. When we're married, sweetheart, as much as I love looking at her body, it'd be really disrespectful to both her and the tenets of the Church if I went any further.  
  
I know that, she huffs, now looking annoyed, you don't have to say that like I don't have any morals or something. I meant, we're still getting married in December, right?  
  
it's just better to hold it when Examiner Draclau comes back as a cardinal. Buremonda's the type that'll postpone the ceremony until then anyway, want to come to the church with me?  
  
Shrugging, Alia moves out of our embrace and holds onto my right arm. Something troubling you, Sammy? You only go to church other than on Sunday when something's bothering you.  
  
Damn, I don't really want to tell her, but... Yeah, actually, something is bothering me, she gives me a look of concern. God... it's nothing really big, just need to talk to Sir Kadmus since he seems to be having a problem.  
  
'Sir Kadmus'...that's your commander, right? I shake my head.  
  
That's Sir Chiroseau. Sir Kadmus is a ranked Holy Knight in charge of the entire Order, we start walking to the church, albeit very slowly, he's a good guy.  
  
Alia doesn't say anything right after, which is never a good thing. Looking down at her, she seems to be kind of pensive. That's great that you have a good leader this time around. What kind of problem does he have?  
  
Not too sure of that, myself. Seems like a problem with his girlfriend, Miss Dular, at Alia's questioning look, I hasten to explain, Reis Dular, a cataloger from Murond. Lionel laws make it so that they're technically not supposed to be together, but that never means anything.  
  
Is that the problem? Sounds like they're doing a good job of circumventing that anyway, hazel eyes narrow as she looks up at me, what's with that look? He's not, like, cheating on her or anything, right? I know how you knights stick together on stuff like that.  
  
I shake my head. God, I don't want to say this because it feels so wrong... It seems as if something happened between those two, and Sir Chiroseau thinks that it may be because... dammit, dammit, dammit, ah, Sir Kadmus may have wanted to do more than Miss Dular would've liked.  
  
I don't believe it, but...  
  
Sammy? Are you saying that... she's searching my face, her expression revealing that...she still remembers. God, I don't think either of us will ever forget, is he capable?  
  
None of us believe it, but Ryan and I were listening in on Sir Kadmus and Sir Chiroseau, and it sounds like something definitely happened, although, I sigh, it's hard to tell exactly what it was.  
  
Alia doesn't say anything else, and we walk the rest of the way to the church in silence. Once inside, we walk down the center of the nave, kneeling just before the pulpit. Facing us is a large stained-glass image of Saint Ajora, our Savior.  
  
My family had always been fairly religious, so I remember Daniel and I having to recite the legend of Saint Ajora and the Zodiac Braves often during our youth. With these warriors from Heaven bearing stones engraved with the symbols of the zodiac, Saint Ajora smote the evil Lucavi who had taken over the king of Limberry and were planning to turn Ivalice into a new Hell. Although the Zodiac Braves dispersed after defeating the demons, it's said that their stones are scattered about Ivalice, and they will find their way into the hands of new heroes should the need ever arise.  
  
Saint Ajora, Holy Son of our Heavenly Father, what should I do? What can I say to Sir Kadmus when all I have to go on is speculation from words that were supposed to be spoken in secret?  
  
Everybody thinks I understand, but the truth is...I don't believe my situation applies here. At least, I hope not.  
  
I hear Alia whisper next to me, and I slowly exhale through my nose at the sound of her voice. I might not be hearing it today...   
  
I glance over at her. She has a rather determined look on her face, which I know means that she has an idea. Let's go, I mutter, standing up and giving her my hand. She takes it and stands, and we make our way out of the church, Alia, what's on your mind?  
  
I'm going to help you, looking over at her, she seems very serious, you need my help, and I... she smiles sadly, I guess I feel a bit connected already just listening to the bare bones of it from you. Y'know what I mean?  
  
I don't say anything to that. Silently, I walk her back to her new house.  
  
I know exactly what she means.  
  
-----  
  
When I enter the barracks after walking Alia home, everyone crowds around me, desperately telling me the latest in Sir Kadmus' affairs.  
  
We don't know what he was called in for, not really, Ren says, worry seeping out of his dark eyes, but you know how he usually jokes about how Priest Buremonda likes to lecture him because he figures Sir Kadmus is just some stupid knight? He didn't do that at all this time, he just stormed through the barracks and slammed the door to his office.  
  
Ren Oyama is our sole White Knight for a reason. Honest, trustworthy and just an all-around nice guy, he was knighted to that rare class when he was just nineteen. He's twenty now, the youngest one here. I don't think the concepts of exaggeration' and hyperbole' even exist to him.  
  
Of course, we're nowhere near as stupid as that priest thinks us to be. And for him to call in Sir Kadmus all of a sudden...it had to be about Miss Dular. Even if the two men are equals while Examiner Draclau's out of Lionel, Miss Dular's an employee under that priest.  
  
Whatever Priest Buremonda said to Sir Kadmus to get him angry enough to start slamming things had to be about her.  
  
I don't think I should talk to him today.  
  
-----  
  
I don't like having the seven at night to one in the morning shift on Tuesdays, or any day for that matter. It's usually better to have daytime shifts. The door to the barracks creaks now, and we've all been trained to be really light sleepers, so when it's opened in the middle of the night it pisses everybody off. Not to talk of the current heat wave that keeps us all awake, then just as everybody's sleeping that door creaks open...hn.  
  
But it's not yet time for my shift to start. It just turned two a couple minutes ago, according to the church bells. I'm just lying on my bed, trying to get some sleep before patrol...  
  
knoknok  
  
Who is it? Ryan yells from his bunk above mine. I fight the urge to kick the bottom of his bed. Why can't he just climb down and answer the door like a normal person?  
  
It's Alia, you pathetic would-be murderer! Open the door! Ah, that's the love of my life, using the same straightforwardness that got her kicked out of the Touten.  
  
With an exaggerated huff, Ryan jumps down from his bunk and I watch as he goes over to the door. Lia, open your own damn doors, he growls as he yanks open the door, isn't that why you joined the Touten, so you can be a liberated, independent woman?  
  
From my vantage point, lying on my bunk with no intent on getting up, I can see that Alia's holding a basket. Doesn't mean that I don't like having things done for me every once in awhile, this is spoken quietly, so I know that Ryan hit a sore spot, 'sides, I'm a civilian now, remember?  
  
Yeah, sure, I know, Ryan closes the door behind Alia as she moves to the center of the room, nice to see you again, cuz.  
  
You too, Ryan. Hey...Sammy, is that you? She walks over to me, sitting down on the edge of my bed before plopping her basket on my stomach. Damn, what did she put in there? Why didn't you greet me at the door?  
  
I sit up, moving the basket on my lap as I move in to kiss her. Because Ryan got there first, moving away, I open the basket and peer inside. Hm, sandwiches. thanks for bringing some food, darling. We're poor enough as is.  
  
It's edible, right? Cause you totally screwed up dinner when I was over at your old place, Lia, Ryan comments as he sits on the bunk opposite us. I pass Alia the basket after I take a sandwich. Hm, roast beef and lettuce.  
  
Then it's a good thing I didn't have to feed your ungrateful body for three of those days, she takes a sandwich and hands the basket over to Ryan, then looks over at me, it's okay, right?  
  
Why is she looking at me like that? Of course it is, and she smiles, no one can mess up something as easy as sandwiches, anyway, and she frowns. I know what that means, did I say something wrong?  
  
Daintily, she bites into her sandwich before tossing me a look. You didn't say something right, that's for sure, she mutters. Ryan chortles and I glare at him.  
  
Every time I see you two together, it reminds me why most knights choose quiet little white mages over knights and monks and stuff, he shoves some of his sandwich into his mouth, after all those years of fighting, who wants to go home and have to deal with some aggressive wife better suited for the battlefield?  
  
Why, why did he have to say that? I take a bite out of my sandwich and start praying to God. Invisibility would be nice right no-- Are you serious? Hey Sammy, is that true? Alia turns to me, her eyes piercing and scary.  
  
Gesturing that I need to swallow, I try to think of a good enough response. Well, it depends on the person, so, ah...  
  
The door opens. Thank you, Almighty Lord in Heaven. Sir Kadmus walks in, heading towards his office with a rather blank look. Well damn, that's not going to be much of a distraction. Oh, excuse me! Alia says loudly.  
  
What's she doing?  
  
Sir Kadmus looks over at us, more of a reaction than out of any actual curiosity. His eyes widen and...is he looking at Alia or me? Something like realization crosses his face and his expression changes from near astonishment to...something blank, but sad too.  
  
Why would he look at either of us like that?  
  
My name's Alia Mikner. Ryan's my younger cousin and Sammy's my fiancé. You're Sir Kadmus, right? I just wanted to thank you for getting the paperwork done for the clearance of my Cherise so quickly, she pauses, um...you are Sir Kadmus, right?  
  
Ah, yes, that's me. You're very welcome, he smiles slightly, forgive me, but I have some work to do.  
  
Oh, of course! Thank you once again! Sir Kadmus nods and heads towards his office, although I don't hear his door close after he disappears into the hallway. That's probably a good sign, since that door's always been closed since Saturday. Hm...hey Sammy, her voice is lowered, which means she must've noticed the same thing I did, did you see how he was looking at me?  
  
Oh, so he was looking at her. I see. Yeah, so?  
  
Dude, why would he look at you? He's already got one of the best looking women in Lionel, Ryan says this in a normal tone. I look at him.  
  
Is that a foreign word you just used, or something you made up? I'm willing to bet that it's the latter.  
  
That's a normal word, Alia says, and I look at her skeptically, well, depending on where you are.  
  
That is the only thing these two will ever agree on, ruining the language. Okay, sure. So, what were you going to say?  
  
She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Do I look anything like Reis?  
  
...Well, you're both blond, and you both have light brownish eyes, though yours are more gold-green too, and Alia has a spattering of freckles across her cheeks, making her look younger than Miss Dular even though she's a year older than I am, do you mean to say that he mistook you for a moment?  
  
Shrugging, she reaches for her basket, which is sitting next to Ryan. He seemed almost happy, then he turned sad. It makes me wonder...  
  
Since Alia used to work with monsters on a daily basis, she thinks that she understands people a lot better. She believes that emotions are the same, whether it's from a monster or a human. I don't know about that, but there was something pretty odd about how Sir Kadmus reacted. I think you're right.  
  
Hold on, hold on, Ryan gestures with a new sandwich, I can't sit by idly while you, he points the sandwich in my direction, go and agree that she, the sandwich is now aimed at Alia, is anywhere in the realm of Miss Reis' beauty.  
  
I wasn't saying anything about that, Alia says quietly, taking a bite of her sandwich. Concerned, I glance at her, but she doesn't seem to notice.  
  
He smirks. I finish off my sandwich, but I've lost my appetite. Good, because it's true, even if Miss Reis could stand to gain a few pounds up here, when he makes a certain gesture with both hands at his chest, I blush and try not to think about what he just implied, but she's so quiet and kind and complacent that any guy would be willing to overlook that.  
  
After glancing at me, Alia smiles sweetly at her cousin. Oh, he's dead. Can you repeat what you just said? I didn't catch it.  
  
Blissfully, he smiles. What? That I think that Miss Reis is kinda flat but she's still damn beautiful?  
  
Yeah. That, she grins, tell me, is Sir Kadmus a vengeful kind of guy?  
  
...Well, sometimes he gets exasperated if we bug him too much about Miss Reis... he looks over at me, then slowly realization dawns on his face, he didn't close his door this time, did he?  
  
I shake my head numbly as I watch Sir Kadmus appear at the foot of the hallway to his office, looking extremely irritated. I've never seen him look like that before... Mikner, I'd like to see you in my office for a moment.  
  
Yes, Sir Kadmus, Ryan glares at Alia as he stands up and follows Sir Kadmus into the office. I feel sorry for Ryan, but there are some things you just don't do.  
  
Still... Don't you think you were going a little too far there? I ask Alia. She narrows her eyes, looking down at her lap.  
  
The moron was asking for it, she mutters, and I don't exactly appreciate being compared to another woman like that.  
  
Moving up next to her, I put my arm around her and she leans against my chest. That harsh look is still on her face, but I'll hold her until it goes away and she smiles again.  
  
I'll gladly hold her beyond then.  
  
Even considering Ryan's tasteless comments about Miss Dular, Sir Kadmus' reaction was nothing short of interesting. That's not the reaction of a man who would gravely disrespect a woman.  
  
I've seen that reaction, that personality...and that's not it.  
  
-----  
  
Even before Takeo left, we've been understaffed. Regulations call for a minimum of six knights to patrol at any given time, or for each six-hour bloc of time. Since we're down to twenty-three knights, that means that someone has to work two shifts a day to make up for the deficiency. Now that someone is Ryan until the end of the month.  
  
Today's the fourth.  
  
I wouldn't appreciate someone talking about my fiancé while I'm in earshot in as crude a manner--at all, really--as Ryan did, but...that's going a little far. In Sir Kadmus' case, this far exceeds his normal reaction of smile politely and tell them that he won't stand for such talk.' Everybody's pushing me to talk to Sir Kadmus very soon because of this.  
  
So Sammy, she works in the library? What does she do?  
  
Alia thinks that the best way to get down to the bottom of this is to talk to Miss Dular. Or rather, she'll talk to Miss Dular. That's perfectly fine with me, although Alia's not the most sensitive person and I don't know Miss Dular enough to guess at what sort of reaction she'll have to my lovely fiancé. All I can do is pray, I suppose.  
  
She's a cataloger, I think I've told her this before, but I hear she just translates ancient texts.  
  
Couldn't she have stayed in Murond and done that? Alia asks. I shrug. I don't know why Priest Buremonda transferred her here just to translate. I mean, I'd think there was more of a need of that service at Murond, or Orbonne.  
  
We walk past the first walls of the church, and I guide Alia to a door on the east side of the church. Opening it for her, I try to smile. Here's the library, Alia.  
  
She smiles widely, then looks up into the skylight in the middle of the library. Abruptly she stops. Oh, wow, look at that hu-ge glass pane in the ceiling!  
  
It's not just one pane, it's an entire skylight. It was here before I was, she's so cute when she smiles like that. Looking straight ahead, I see a figure sitting at a table in the center of the room, darkish golden hair spread over the back of the chair. Ah, that's Miss Dular.  
  
Alia looks at me, eyes still full of wonderment. Wow, I didn't realize that Lionel was so well off compared to Dorter! I'm inclined to agree with her. I've been to Dorter many times, and as a trade city it's pretty nice, but it still doesn't compare to some of the things in Lionel. We completely enter the library and walk towards Miss Dular, who seems to be concentrating on her work.  
  
Oh, Miss Dular, I say once we reach her table. She pauses, then looks up at us, large light brown eyes alight with just a glimmer of feeling. Her face is completely blank and it's...kind of like looking at Sir Kadmus.  
  
Hm...  
  
She parts her lips slightly.   
  
As much as I love Alia, and even after all the things we've went through...those eyes, that velvety alto...I can understand why Ryan said what he said. But she's not nearly as lively as Alia. You may not remember me, but I greeted you at the castle, I smile, hoping she remembers me, my name's Samuel Riola, of the Lionel Holy Knights.  
  
There's a flicker of recognition in her light eyes. Reis Dular, she bows slightly, and I belatedly remember something about how polite she's said to be, ...although you already know me... she hesitates, as if she wanted to say something else.  
  
I'm here too, Alia pokes me and I flinch. What was that for? I'm Alia Mikner, this guy's-- she pokes me again and I grit my teeth, --fiancé. I just moved here from Dorter a day or so ago. He wanted to pick up a book, she leans in secretively towards Miss Dular, he's really religious.  
  
While Alia isn't as religious as I am, she didn't have to point it out like that. You don't have to say that like it's a crime, I'm supposed to disappear so that she can properly' talk to Miss Dular, I'll be right back, I look at her and she returns it. Everything's going okay. I walk to the back of the room and look through all the titles. I can hear them, although not well enough to pick out anything. _Holy Words: A Dissertation of Selected Sermons From Saint Ajora_...this looks interesting. I pull it out of the bookcase and flip through it. It's fairly small as far as religious tomes go, which can only be a good thing. Hm, this is really detailed too. I'm really fond of reading this sort of literature, although with Alia around I probably won't get the chance to read as much as I usually do. It's a fair trade.  
  
I don't hear them anymore...does this mean we can go? I walk back to the table, happy at my find. I found a book, Alia, wait, am I really allowed to take this? Miss Dular, I know you don't check out books or anything, but do you mind if I borrow this? She glances at the cover of the book when I show it to her, then nods. I heard she was quiet, but I hope that Alia didn't say anything that really got to her. Thank you, Miss Dular. Alia, shall we go?  
  
Alia sounds happy as she stands up and grabs my hand, then she actually waves at Miss Dular. It was great meeting you, Reis! Let's talk again! Well, I guess it couldn't have gone that badly if Alia's willing to say that. We walk out of the library, with me pushing the door open for her, when she suddenly looks at me. It isn't as bad as you think it is. There's no way he did anything to her that she didn't want done.  
  
That's great! How do you know that? I'm amazed...did Miss Dular open up to Alia in such a short amount of time?  
  
Well, she was wearing a long-necked blouse, and she kept touching her neck, so I'd say that he left a mark on her, she nods to herself, she seemed really wistful, didn't say a lot, though that's probably just a personality trait...she doesn't act like a victim normally does.  
  
I nod. So this is just a case of...what, then?  
  
Pro'ly crappy communication skills, Alia drawls, Sammy, do all guys like that type of girl?  
  
...That was sudden. Depends on the type of guy, I guess.  
  
She stops, and I realize that we're heading towards the shopping area. Do you like that type of girl?  
  
W-what? You're the type of girl that I like, I look into her eyes, brown and green with flecks of gold. I love her eyes, why do you ask?  
  
Ryan said that knights prefer the quiet, complacent type of girl and... she sighs, being from Dorter and in the military...I've never seen that type of girl until today. There's no way I could ever be like that...  
  
Would you want to be? I'd like to kick him right now. Alia's not the type to get depressed like this.  
  
Alia looks at me strangely. Of course not. I'm just trying to figure out how a man could stand a woman like that. She's so amazingly beautiful and I'm sure she's extremely intelligent, but...is that it?  
  
That's pretty rude, don't you think? Personally, I've seen Miss Dular with Sir Kadmus before, and I know that there's definitely something there. When she's with Sir Kadmus, she's certainly a lot happier.  
  
...She feels different to me, I guess, smiling slightly now, Alia pulls me a bit, walk me home. Talk to Sir Kadmus tomorrow if you want, but trust me, it's not as bad as you knights think it is, a wistful sheen passes over her eyes for a second, he's definitely no Margueriff.  
  
I wish she hadn't said his name. Even though I've put my heart into the Glabados faith and believe in forgiving all those that have sinned against me, I can't...  
  
I can't ever forgive my former commander for what he's done.  
  
-----  
  
Okay, I'm going to do it, I announce to everyone in the barracks after I finish changing into civilian clothes. Something hits the back of my head and I turn and glare at the bunk above mine.  
  
Shut up, I'm trying to sleep before my next shift, Ryan grumbles.  
  
I say sincerely to him, and he just shakes his head and goes back to sleep. I should talk to Sir Kadmus about reversing Ryan's punishment too. Turning to everyone, I try to smile, wish me luck.  
  
There's a chorus of sure' and just do your best' and such, and it's nice that everyone has such faith in me. I make my way to the hallway leading up to the door, steel my nerves, then knock. Come in, Sir Kadmus says on the other side. Hm, he doesn't sound like he's any worse off than usual.  
  
I open the door and walk in. He's sitting at his desk, working on his paperwork with help from a lantern's light. Ah, I'd like to talk to you for a moment, sir.  
  
He looks up at me. It's about eight at night, and even with the light his eyes are darkened to the point of looking black. he says wearily.  
  
At the bar would be better, drinking is a good way of getting someone to talk, except that I don't drink very often. I don't have much in the way of savings since I was saving up to help buy Alia's--and my--future home, but I think I can spare some gil, I'll buy.  
  
After staring at me curiously for a moment longer, he nods. Let me get changed first, I shrug at this and walk out of his office. I think I'll go outside...fresh air always helps me think. I walk past everyone, who all seem appropriately stunned at seeing Sir Kadmus leave his office, and I slip out into the night. Hm, new moon. So if we stumble back here stone-blind drunk, there won't be any light to depend on and we could easily end up in front of the church. I'm sure that priest will appreciate that.  
  
Okay, let's go, he says, stepping out of the barracks. In silence we walk over to the bar, located along the shopping area near the south entrance to town. It's fairly crowded inside, filled with rowdy drunks and morose drunks. No happy drunks, at least not yet. We take a table somewhere in the center of the bar and a hardened-looking waitress comes up to our table.  
  
What shall be my poison for tonight? Gallionne lager, nothing like home brew.  
  
Same for me, he says, and I inwardly sigh in relief. If he chose something harder, it probably wouldn't be a very good sign of how the talk's going to go. I think the one thing any knight learns along the way is how to drink, sometimes for the respect, sometimes to forget.  
  
Mostly the latter.  
  
The waitress leaves, then comes back with amazing speed with two mugs filled to the brim with the dark brew. I take a sip, relishing the smoothness. Did you want to talk to me because of Mikner? He asks after taking a gulp of his drink.  
  
I pause, it's about you, actually.  
  
He looks at me, not looking particularly annoyed or anything. Because of the way I've been for the last week or so, right?  
  
That's...direct.   
  
I see, he takes another drink, looking like he's thinking over something, how long have you been with Miss Mikner?  
  
Eh... Over four years, I say, taking a sip.  
  
That must be nice, I restrain myself from telling him that a lot of that time wasn't actually spend on the courtship process, but rather the rebuilding the relationship' process, I thought about it yesterday, and I realized that I've known Reis for about four months, he takes another gulp of the liquor, I've told her about my past, and my feelings for her, and...well, he pauses to down some more of the lager, she's never told me the same things.  
  
Was Alia right about the crappy communication'? Does that bother you? after taking another sip, I've noticed that he's drinking rather quickly. I'm not sure what to make of that.  
  
Sir Kadmus pauses from taking another drink, looking thoughtful. No, not really. She's... he puts down the mug, she's so different that I don't know what to think.  
  
I don't understand, I take a gulp. Judging how Sir Kadmus looks, which is more like his old self except for the faint splotches of red on his cheeks, he's going to talk a lot. That's better than how he had looked when I walked into his office earlier.  
  
She confuses me, he smiles lightly, I'm probably the closest person to her, but I can't even begin to figure out what's going on through her head. All the women I've ever met in my life are so obviously strong-willed. They'll say what they want, they'll do what they want... his eyes take on a faraway look while he takes another sip of his drink, but she's so quiet and kind and polite...and it's strange. She's all these things, but... frowning slightly, he looks down into his drink, she can wield all that like they were weapons.  
  
That's...that's an odd description. Does that bother you?  
  
He looks up at me. No, that attracts me, this is said so bluntly that I raise an eyebrow, but I don't understand her. She seemed so accommodating at first, but she's really very strong. I'm always left wondering, why does she even want to be with me?'  
  
But I don't think she trusts me.  
  
She told you this? The change in his tone...first he was happy, then suddenly everything changed. It's intriguing how such a complacent woman has such an effect on him.  
  
It makes me wonder what sort of effect Alia's had on me.  
  
She doesn't need to tell me, he sighs, she won't tell me anything about her past except for small details. I tell her, If there's anything bothering you, please tell me,' and she smiles and doesn't say anything. I'm afraid that if I push her into telling me anything, she'll just close up, he takes a gulp of his lager.  
  
Unlike Ryan and Alia, who are very adept at talking about whatever crosses their mind for very long periods of time, Sir Kadmus is normally talkative but discreet. He'll be more than happy to talk about Reis, but nothing like this. Nothing deep. Is it because of the alcohol, or because he's held this in for a long time? Do you trust her? I ask quietly.  
  
He looks at me, a small smile on his face.   
  
If he can smile and say that, then I don't think that Miss Dular's taciturn nature is getting to him that much. I know he's normally extremely easygoing, but even so...I take a sip and mull over what I should say next.  
  
I just wanted to give her a goodnight kiss, I freeze when I realize what he's talking about. I don't know if I want to hear this... and I wanted to tell her how I had fun even though we can't dance and there was an episode with this kid from Goug that interrupted our time. Then I was going to go back to the barracks and sleep in peace for once, since everybody was still out patrolling. That would've been a perfectly acceptable end to the night.  
  
The next thing I know, she's moaning my name in my ear and I'm kissing her again and thinking that there's another way to end the night, and it was starting to look more and more acceptable all the time, he pauses to drain down the rest of his mug, frowning at the same time, we were outside her room, of all places, and it never occurred to me that one of the white mages could've walked outside and seen us like that. It never occurred to me that when she starts undoing things like the front of her dress, that might be the time to stop and assess the situation, his eyes narrow.  
  
Then I told her I loved her and she pushed me away.  
  
Without a word, the waitress from before deposits a new glass in front of Sir Kadmus, taking the empty one away. My glass is still half-full, and with everything he's telling me...it's hard to just drink casually. Was that the first time you told her that you loved her?  
  
He glances at me. No. Sometimes I'd tell her, and she'd try to say it back, but... he takes a sip out of his new glass, it was obvious she couldn't. The best I got was that she really, really, _really_ liked' me. That's fine. As long as she was willing to stay around me, that was good enough, he frowns, she stared at me as if I was forcing her to...I can't even bring myself to make her talk to me, and she thinks I was going to... closing his eyes, he leans back and sighs, after that, I just needed to get away and think for a while. Then Chiroseau tells me that she was worried about my feelings, that she believed that she had to return my love...  
  
All I feel is incredibly guilty now.  
  
...My God. This is...what do I say? Ah...when I visited Alia after I left the Hokuten, a kindness bestowed by Sir Zalbag Beoulve, we just talked about everything. Have you tried to talk to her since? I'm sure the answer is no, at least up to yesterday.  
  
Sir Kadmus looks at me, his eyes remarkably steady even with his new blotchy-red complexion. I know I should. I've wanted to all week. But...  
  
Talk to her, I insist, reaching for my mug, talking to me won't do any good other than to let me know that you're feeling horrible about it, and I don't really matter in the scheme of things.  
  
Everybody matters, he mutters, taking a sip of his drink, I wonder if she hates me?  
  
You won't know until you talk to her, I sigh. I can repeat this as long as he keeps balking at the concept of communication.  
  
Glancing at me, he smiles slightly. Everybody must've been worried if they felt that you should talk to me, Riola. You've always been good at things like that.  
  
I shake my head. Anybody can listen, I think. We take care of our own. After all, there's a lot of people depending on us, and especially on you.  
  
We sit there for a long time, quietly drinking and listening to the other patrons laugh and argue with each other. He seems to have regained his normal mood. I don't think it was because of my advice, but I guess he just needed to talk.  
  
I hope that everything turns out all right for Sir Kadmus and Miss Dular.  
  
-----  
  
So, it really was just a communication problem? Alia smiles as she serves breakfast to Ryan and me at her' house. It's a nice Saturday morning, already pretty hot, but that's typical Lionel summer weather. I'm proud of you, Sammy, she kisses me on the cheek as she places a plate in front of me. Looking down at it, it seems to be eggs and bread...the eggs are runny.  
  
Yeah, thanks Sam. At least Sir Kadmus put me back on normal scheduling, and he and Sir Chiroseau are talking again, Ryan pokes at his own eggs with his fork, Lia, you're supposed to cook the eggs longer.  
  
Alia, who was sitting down at the table with her own plate, glares at Ryan. How cute. You know how to cook. Now, why don't you go find a husband so you can cook for him?  
  
Before Ryan has a chance to open his mouth, I should stop this. Can you two not do this so early in the day? Stabbing at the eggs, I take in a forkful of it...eh. It's edible. I'm just happy that everything's back to normal. Good job with the food, sweetheart.  
  
Thank you! She smiles cutely at me. We all start eating in silence, a small miracle occurring when Ryan actually doesn't complain about the food for complaining's sake. Cherise, who has free rein of the house, comes up to me and pecks at me until I give her some bread, then leaves the room. That bird only likes pecking me, I swear. Tearing some of her bread, Alia seems sort of hesitant. So, do you know if Sir Kadmus patched things up with Reis?  
  
Ryan sighs. He probably did. He got in at ten last night, but he left at six or so. And here I was hoping I could just kinda sweep in and seduce her or something, his eyes take on a faraway look, and I hear Alia sigh in irritation.  
  
I think you'd have to get in line for that, I take a bite of the bread, besides, what makes you think that she'd be interested in you?  
  
The fact that I care, he says, spreading jam onto his bread, I mean, I respect Sir Kadmus and everything, but he was just totally handling everything wrong.  
  
I look at him strangely. What makes you say that?  
  
Like, I mean, he leans back, scratching his blond hair, just sitting around and thinking, oh, I'll wait for her to tell me things,' is so non-caring. If it were me, I'd ask her what was wrong when I notice, not just give her space' or whatever.  
  
Alia raises an eyebrow. This from the man who commented on her chest size half a week ago?  
  
He grins. My love is such that I can see her imperfections and still care anyway.  
  
Oh, whatever, setting down her fork, she glowers at Ryan, I talked to Reis. That direct manner wouldn't help at all with a person like that. Sir Kadmus was only thinking of her by deciding to wait her out. She's the one who won't talk, so I think she's the one who's at fault.  
  
Frowning at this, Ryan glances at me. What do you think, Sam? Who's the one in the wrong?  
  
I look down at my cleared plate. In the wrong'...I wonder. Both of them, I guess. But...does it really matter, as long as they learn from their mistakes?  
  
There are some things that will always be wrong, and some things that will always be right. But when it comes to relationships...I look over at Alia, and I remember all the things we had to go through to get to this point of eating breakfast together months before our wedding. Noticing my gaze, she smiles at me.  
  
Even with everything that happened, if she can still smile at me like that, then the Holy Father and His Son haven't forsaken us just yet.  
  
It's inevitable that incompatibilities and hardships are going to come up in a relationship, but as long as both people are happy in the end...it's worth it.

-End to Interlude #1-

I didn't really understand the concept of an interlude' until I read toastyann's RK fic, The Journey'. Since I really wanted to get in-depth about the situation in chapters 16-17 from a rather neutral viewpoint, this seemed like the best idea. So, thank you toastyann!  
  
- Margueriff' is Gustave Margueriff, that guy that who took Marquis Elmdor hostage and met his end by Wiegraf's blade. In his brave story, it says that he used to be in the Hokuten until they kicked him out for repeated robberies and rapes.  
  
-It's intentionally vague because of importance constraints, but here's Sam's situation: He was in Margueriff's troop when they were both in the Hokuten, completely oblivious to the fact that his commander and a few other members were systematically robbing and raping throughout captured towns. Zalbag, who was just a superior commander at this time--I have no clue what that would translate into for today's military--tried the entire troop once word got out about the corrupt troop'. Sam was lucky enough that his innocence was recognized, but it really strained his relationship with Alia even up into his joining the Lionel Holy Knights. But no one cares, right?  
  
-I feel that I've neglected the fact that a fair amount of Ivalice believes in the Glabados faith. Here's my nod to them. I'm not good with religion, so I always tend to forget the religious aspect of this story.  
  
Reviews!  
  
Hey, Luna. Maybe I'm just weird, but I think it's pretty sad that Reis isn't expected to talk about the most important things. It's like saying that people have just given up on her. Eh. -- I wonder if Verden really does seem subtly-evil...  
FFVI is a great game, isn't it? It was the third RPG I'd ever played, eight years ago...oh, I feel old. Mog is just so cuddly-cute  
Well, if you say so about the Delita-fic. Can't blame you for not wanting to get into his head, but as for doing him justice...you won't know until you try, I think.  
  
Kay Willow, what a lovely review! I love having a lot to read. That chapter was really...I don't want to say hard', but it was definitely interesting, especially since I was changing around major events hours before I was supposed to post it up. And yeah, Setzer's awesome. Have you ever read Wine, Women and Song'?  
Yeah, I'm not terribly worried about Reis being cliche. As long as she's developed from whatever archetype I've pulled her personality type from--incidently the same one as my favorite character from FFVI, Terra--I'm more than happy. And as for Beowulf...I didn't mean to imply that men can't be sensitive'. ;; I know way too many guys who're kinder than I ever could be. It's just because I'm a girl that I'm not quite sure of the mindset of a guy. ;  
Yeah, having all these blond kunoichi and oracles and such...I always love how many FF games will be mostly set in some archtypical medieval/Western world...except for that one town with all the samurai and ninjas. Kinda gets one wondering...  
  
Hello once again, Jaded Soul! Wow...you really are learned in Japanese. I know what you mean about having manga and import game books around. I'm happy that you haven't spotted any errors or typos so far, it's nice to know that I don't need a beta reader just quite yet. I hope that this long interlude is up to your standards of quality!  
  
Josh, it really makes me happy that you're a dedicated reviewer, and I hope that I can continue to keep you waiting for each chapter. Well, about writing and reader's expectations...while I do care about reaching my readers' standards, I'm more concerned about improving for my own sake. But absolutely I'll do my best, and I thank you for appreciating that.  
  
Thank you for reading! If you have any questions or comments please tell me, because I need something to think about other than completely reforming California's constitution and the effect stepchildren have on a second/third/nth marriage...  
  
Chapter 18: Magic Touch (_Chantage Redux_): Well, if you like I'll teach you some magic, but I really don't mind eating sandwiches. 


	19. 18: Magic Touch

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 18: Magic Touch (_Chantage Redux_)  
  
_Reis darling, I've noticed that you're working especially hard lately.  
  
Oh, Mama, I'm just trying my best.  
  
For what?  
  
To...to make sure everything is running smoothly. After all, I'm twelve now, and soon...  
  
Ah. You've been thinking about that too? You're growing into such a fine young woman so quickly. Papa mentioned to me that he almost mistook you for me yesterday!  
  
Papa? Hahaha...I don't believe that! I feel like I'm growing so slowly...sometimes I think that I'll never become an adult...  
  
Oh, Reis darling...just enjoy yourself while you still can._  
  
I'm trying, Mama, but it's that time of the year again.  
  
Best not to think about that right now.  
  
A sigh escapes from my lips while I slice the completed sandwiches diagonally. The last time I did this, Peppermint was here with me. I hope she's having fun traveling with her husband. It must be fun to travel, especially with a loved one. It seems that the farthest out of Lionel Beowulf and I are going to get to is Bariaus Valley.  
  
The kitchen door swings open, surprising me. I'm always so stuck in my own mind that it's hard to focus on subtle going-ons like footsteps and such. Oh, you're here, ah, it's Scarlet. I better get out of here soon.  
  
Good morning, Miss Scarlet, I place all my sandwich wedges into my basket, not bothering to turn around and face her, let me just clean up here and I'll leave.  
  
She hmph's at this. I stifle another sigh. I still don't quite understand why the white mages in general--and Scarlet in particular--despise me. I haven't seen her for awhile, though. Carefully I collect all the spare crumbs off the counter, head bowed. She hasn't moved from the doorway. Is she staring at me? You're going on a picnic with yourself? Her question sounds more like a challenge than anything else, but I don't know why.  
  
Yes, it's a nice day to be outside, I murmur. She said that she'd leave Peppermint alone  
  
--_Why should I? After all, no one can hide a relationship for very long in a church_--  
  
but I don't think she'd extend that same courtesy to me.  
  
I hear her fingernails hollowly drumming a rhythm against the side of the doorway. That's a lot of sandwiches for just one person, she mutters. My eyes narrow. It seems that Verden isn't the only one prying into my personal life lately, especially for a little slip of a girl like you.  
  
Closing the top of the basket, I pick up its handles and turn around, facing Scarlet. There's a strange look on her face. As much as I eat, I can't seem to gain any weight, why is she always so snide to me? someday, you should tell me the details of your diet so that I'll be sure to gain some.  
  
I think it'd take more than food to fill out your figure, she says primly, moving her hands up to spread out her long dark brown hair, her ample chest rising accordingly. A flicker of annoyance sparks up in me as I remember something from last week...  
  
_I'm in the barracks--in Beowulf's office to be exact--talking to him as he fills out paperwork. I'm making more of an attempt to show him my true feelings verbally--although I haven't actually told him them yet--ever since we talked things through a few days ago. There seems to be a never-ending supply of paperwork for him, but he just smiles and goes through it all, reading each paper attentively. He has great work ethic. I really admire that since I usually just sit in the library, looking up at the skylight and wishing I was outside instead.  
  
The office door is open, and a fair amount of knights are inside the barracks. Two of them are holding a conversation in harsh whispers, and I'm bored enough to listen in on them while Beowulf and I hold a stunted conversation.  
  
She's got a nice figure, doesn't she?  
  
Are they talking about me?  
  
I guess, but it's not, you know, very curvy. Nice hips, but she doesn't look very soft to hold.  
  
...What?  
  
  
  
Y'know, she's beautiful to look at but she looks so delicate next to all the other women out there. You gotta wonder if Sir Kadmus feels like he's gonna break her every time they hug or something. I know I'd be worried about that.  
  
...  
  
Huh, I guess you're right. Well, all we can do is look.  
  
I blink and focus on Beowulf, whose brandy eyes are staring at me with worry. I always seem to worry him... What's wrong? You look annoyed.  
  
Lately, it seems that I'm doing a poorer job of hiding my feelings than usual. I've been trying not to hide my feelings around him, but I always shield the wrong ones. Do I?  
  
His worried look turns into one I can't figure out. Did you hear something you didn't like? I stare at him, trying to damper down my shock. How did he know...can he hear them too? I figure if you can hear footsteps and tell whether it's me or not, you can probably listen in on other people too, he smiles like he usually does when he tries to coax me into letting my hair down, am I right?  
  
... Beowulf, am I too thin?  
  
He looks taken aback for a moment. I think you're perfect, frowning slightly, he looks past me, is that what you heard?  
  
... I think', huh? ...I was just wondering, that's all, I smile, go back to work. We should go out to lunch soon.  
  
He smiles. Fine, fine, and goes back to reading a document. And I...I'm not sure what to make of it._  
  
Before I arrived in Lionel again, I never really spared a thought about my figure...or lack thereof. With all the women around wearing heavy cloaks and robes, it didn't occur to me that in normal life a woman's body type is much more focused on. In Ivalice, what with all the famines and such, the plumper a woman is, the healthier she's assumed to be. I've been called scrawny' and delicate' and such while at the shopping area so many times that I know what they really mean by now.  
  
I'm less of a woman.'  
  
Compared to Mama, this is true. But, what can I do about it?  
  
You're probably right, I sigh. I have to meet Beowulf at the shopping area soon, and this is taking up my time, thank you for your advice, Miss Scarlet.  
  
She glares at me. Did I say something wrong? For a little girl from Murond, you're awfully patronizing.  
  
Patronizing'...?  
  
Twisting my words around, giving me underhanded insults...I don't want to be treated like this anymore.  
  
--_Reis, as much as I like you, I think you should be more assertive. Don't let people push you around!_--  
  
My name is Reis, I say quietly.  
  
I know what assertive' means, but that's not really me. At least, not _this_ me.  
  
Scarlet looks at me in a way I recognize instantly. It's the same look as a wary monster. And this matters to me because...? She stares at me out of narrowed eyes, so narrow that they remind me of a red panther's.  
  
--_On our end, we'll do whatever we can to make sure that Kadmus doesn't get into any trouble with Buremonda, but are the white mages as solidly on your side?_--  
  
Not like it mattered in the end for Peppermint. However... I'd appreciate it if you called me by the name my parents gave me, not one of your own creation.  
  
There is a way that I can listen to both Peppermint and Chiroseau.  
  
She tilts her head to side, arms now crossed in front of her chest. So, you do have some life in those eyes. Though, I'm surprised that such a tiny remark has such an affect on you.  
  
I merely wish to be afforded the same respect I give to you, Miss Scarlet, I smile inwardly as her face goes completely neutral, my name is important to me.  
  
Arms uncrossing, the look she gives me is one of bland indifference. If you want respect, then earn it first, the left corner of her lips rises, I'll be looking forward to that, little cataloger, she walks past me, the sleeve of her robe brushing against my bare right arm, and fully enters the kitchen.  
  
Respect...that won't be my first priority.  
  
Oh, I forgot the knife I used...I need to wash it outside. Turning around, I take a deep breath. Excuse me, I need to--  
  
I'll take care of it, her voice is...less cold than it was before.  
  
That's...kind of her. Thank you, I bow to her back out of habit. Walking out of the cafeteria, the basket swinging in my left hand, I do my best to hurry to the shopping area in the rather tight dress of one of my creations.  
  
Mama...  
  
--_Reis darling, here is Mama's first important rule of hunting: if a monster is staring at you, unsure of whether to attack or not, make sure to do two things. One is to keep your posture steady. Don't blindly attack or run away, even if your body is screaming at you to do just that. If you're scared that's fine, but make sure the monster doesn't know that.  
  
And, never back down_--  
  
It's easier to stand up to monsters than it is humans. After all, monsters can only hurt you physically.  
  
I walk through the empty little streets, listening to the sounds of the people in the shopping area just ahead of me. It seems like there's more people than usual, which makes sense with Ajora's birthday coming up. Generally there is a week of prayer--this week--before the actual birthday comes up on the twenty-third. That day, there's all day church services filled with all sorts of rituals for everyone to get involved in.  
  
At least after that things go back to normal. At least, that's true in Murond. Hopefully there won't be extensions to the prayer time after his birthday here.  
  
As I reach the end of my little alley, I see that there seems to be literally a river of people along the street of the shopkeepers. It's like half the town had decided that today was the day they should use to prepare for the celebration of Ajora's birthday, leading to this catastrophic mess of people flooding the street. There are kids crying and squealing, with their mothers either conversing loudly with their friends or hollering at their children. Large men bellow out hoarse laughter, young women chatter animatedly in groups, and young men shout to friends standing right next to them.  
  
Wow. This is a far cry from the solemnity of Murond at this time of the year...  
  
Squishing myself against a wall adjacent to the alley I just exited, I try and look through the throng of people. Beowulf...ah! Oh, no, that man has hazel eyes and is a lot shorter. Where...can't see a thing with all these people...oh, God, and knowing Beowulf he's on the other side of the street, buying sweets...  
  
Okay, deep breath. Exhale. Good.  
  
If I have to walk through a living river to meet up with Beowulf, I'll do that.  
  
I lift up my basket, cradling it protectively against my chest. I won't let my food get hurt or stolen, though maybe it'd be safer if I lifted it above my head as I cross the street...  
  
Suddenly, I really dislike Ajora...moreso than usual. If he had a birthday in the winter, everybody would be too cold to run around without abandon like this. But since it's summer, everyone's good to crowd the streets until it becomes really sweltering, which won't happen for another few hours. If we hadn't agreed to meet at ten I'd gladly wait out everyone, but I suggested it because I knew he'd have to be in uniform so he could carry his sword, and his uniform consists of mostly black.  
  
--_Anyway, next time we have a picnic, I'll be carrying my sword_--  
  
I wish he didn't have to go through the extra effort just for me.  
  
I hate this time of the year...  
  
  
  
Beowulf? I look over to my right, where his voice sounded from, and I watch as he fluidly moves through the crowd towards me. It's like he's had practice with this. I guess that makes sense, considering he's been here for a while now. When he manages to dislodge himself from the mass of people as he reaches me, I smile up at him in welcome. Good morning, Beowulf.  
  
Good morning, he says in his good-natured tone, smiling widely, crowded, isn't it?  
  
Yes, and... Why is it so crowded? I mean, I know Ajora's birthday is coming up, but is everyone preparing for just that day? Wouldn't it have been more prudent to do the shopping for food and such the day before, not five days before?  
  
He looks around before his eyes settle on the main gate across the street. Actually, the shops close tomorrow, right up until the day after, holding out his hand towards me, he grins, well, let's go.  
  
I take his hand. We're going to cross straight through?  
  
We can go around, if you like, he looks at me, that grin still on his face. I clutch at my basket, holding it tighter against my body with my left hand before shaking my head. Beowulf starts walking, tightly holding my hand as he moves through the mass of people with something that could almost be considered graceful. It's a bit surprising, considering the number of times he stepped on my feet--and vice-versa, I'll admit--when we danced weeks ago.  
  
I enter the crowd, and instantly I feel lost.  
  
Submerged among all these people, voices rising and falling at random in unplanned discordance, I can't help but feel sick. I'm taller than most of these people, but a few times there are men in front of me who are taller than I am. With my vision blocked, it's like I've completely gone under.  
  
I can't stand this...  
  
Then we emerge on the other side.  
  
Thank God.  
  
Loosely, I let my left arm dangle, swinging my hand up to deftly catch the handle of my basket as it falls. I'm trying to catch my breath, but...  
  
I don't like being surrounded like that. All those voices, the people, it's...it's overwhelming.  
  
I look up at Beowulf's kind tone. Concerned brandy eyes stay on my face for a moment before they light up, come on, some fresh air and water will help. I know the perfect place, I smile weakly at his suggestion.  
  
That sounds wonderful.  
  
-----  
  
We walk for a fairly long time down the worn path until we reach a river. I don't remember crossing a river when I was traveling up from Warjilis, but then again the carriage had no windows. Still, considering the height of the cliffs surrounding the river, my driver must've decided to find a different route around. Curiously I walk over to the edge of the cliff and peer down into the clear water. It looks refreshing. Behind me, I can hear Beowulf settling down underneath a tree with my basket, which he took from me shortly after we left town.  
  
Do you like this spot? Beowulf asks after a moment, usually there are monsters around, but since it's about the hottest time of day, I figured it'd be safe for us.  
  
I look over my shoulder at him. It's a nice spot. We should've come here earlier.  
  
I would've suggested it, but I wasn't sure if you could walk this far, I stare at him for a moment. Don't I have legs? He grins at me, if I didn't know you so well, I'd say you were glaring at me.  
  
I smile. It's hard not to fall into a good mood when he's around. My attention is diverted to my basket...specifically the fact that one of his hands is in it. You wouldn't happen to be sneaking food, would you? I ask dryly.  
  
A wide-eyed look of innocence instantly shines from his face. Of course not.  
  
...We might as well eat anyway. I wouldn't mind knowing why one of your hands is in my basket, then, I walk over to him, sitting down on the other side of the basket uncomfortably before I decide to just stretch out my legs and lean against the tree.  
  
I can't help it. I like your cooking too much. It's a reflex, my face heats up at this. He really knows the right things to say, except...  
  
It's not cooking, I reach for the basket and open its top, to which Beowulf immediately takes a sandwich wedge, it's just sandwiches. No one needs skill for that.  
  
He takes a bite of the wedge. I wouldn't know about that. It's food, he swallows, good food, at that. And I still remember the Riovanes Sweets you made, the smile on his face is intimidating in its level of bliss. I never realized that a person could look so happy, although, lately you have been making mostly sandwiches.  
  
If I wasn't a magical incompetent, he'd know me for more than just sweets and sandwiches. I can't use the stove, I admit quietly, reaching for a sandwich and taking a bite. It's just berry preserves spread onto some bread I conveniently found in the kitchen; I don't get paid until the end of next week and my savings has been bare since before the ball.  
  
Why not? He looks at me curiously, gulping down another wedge. I figured he would like it, considering the sweetness of the preserves.  
  
I don't know any magic, although he should know this by now, what with how I had once attempted to start a fire with two stones.  
  
--_Er...I understand the pit, but what are you doing?_--  
  
Ah...so much for tradition. Papa must be sad, wherever he is.  
  
Beowulf regards me for a long time, his smile barely there, while continuing to steadily eat all my sandwiches. Hm. I'm not hungry. I look over at the edge of the cliff, still feeling his eyes on me.  
  
...  
  
... Is something wrong? I glance over at him to find that he's still staring at me. I also notice that most of my sandwiches are gone. That was quick.  
  
Is cooking fun for you? There's interest deep within his eyes, a bit much for such a simple question.  
  
Cooking, hm?  
  
--_Reis darling, this is a technique that my mama taught me when baking bread..._--  
  
Well, I enjoy it...  
  
--_One day you'll definitely surpass me as a master cook, Reis darling_--  
  
But I was taught that cooking is...  
  
--_Look at all the hard work you've put into your training! Oh, I'm so proud of you. You'll be the perfect hunter's wife for sure!_--  
  
Cooking, sewing, hunting, raising children...I trained from birth in all these skills and at twenty-one I'm still not any closer to fulfilling my potential. Mama and Papa surely wouldn't like to see all their hard work being wasted away like this...  
  
Deep breath, Reis. It's only because of the time of the year that I'm brooding like this.  
  
  
  
I like cooking for other people, I smile softly. I don't want him to think that something's wrong, because there _isn't_, because I'm only willing to cook for people who deserve it.  
  
His eyes widen, then he smiles, a tinge of red on his cheeks. He looks like how I feel after he starts piling compliments on me. Well...if you say so.  
  
I think Beowulf deserves actual cooking, not these simple sandwiches. He deserves all the skills I have... Beowulf, I don't want to make sandwiches anymore.  
  
Do you just want to eat at restaurants from now on, or do you want me to buy snacks? What? Why does he instantly think that the responsibility of food falls on him? Hm...he'd be a rather poor husband in a hunter's family, simply because he'd try to take on all the duties himself instead of letting me...ah, the wife handle her share of the chores.  
  
Well, it's a moot point, all things considering.  
  
I can't help but let a small smile appear on my face as he continues to look at me questioningly. I mean that I want to cook for us from now on.  
  
Oh, well, you don't have to put yourself out like that, he says quickly, I mean, it's probably too much work and I said that I don't like it when you do things for my sake.  
  
...I love him. I really do. But that just sounds...I mean, does he think that I only do things just for him? He wouldn't be wrong, but he would't be right either. Beowulf, I'd like you to teach me some magic.  
  
There is a stunned expression on his face.   
  
Because I can't use the stove unless I know basic black magic, I pause when I notice him close his eyes at black magic', I wouldn't ask unless I thought it was worth it, my voice is soft, mimicking that soothing quality that his voice sometimes assumes when a sensitive subject is brought up.  
  
It's kind of strange. I was initially drawn to him because of his confidence, something I wanted to find in myself. I'm still looking for the confidence, but instead I learned how to relate to other people...a sort of empathy.  
  
Or maybe I've always had that, I don't know.  
  
Beowulf opens his eyes and gazes at me for a moment before he gives me a small smile. Well, if you like I'll teach you some magic, but I really don't mind eating sandwiches.  
  
Really? Thank you, Beowulf, I smile widely and he shakes his head at this, running a hand through his slicked-black hair.  
  
Only because I want to try your other meals, reaching out, he moves my basket aside, then holds out his hands to me, give me your hands, please.  
  
Okay. I scoot up towards him a bit, holding out my hands upward like he is and laying them on his palms. It's uncomfortable to sit in this dress without stretching out my legs, but I make do with tucking them underneath me in a kneeling position. Like this?  
  
He nods. I wish I had brought my gloves...I should've, since I brought my sword, he glances behind him, where his sword is laying unobtrusively in the summer grass, I don't want to risk you burning your hands or getting frostbite...I don't have to teach you Bolt, I hope, brandy eyes flicker up at my face. I shake my head. I've never seen Peppermint use anything like that on the stove, well, that's good. Now, I want you to close your eyes.  
  
I do so, the sound of my heartbeat throbbing steadily in my ears.  
  
So loud...  
  
Focus on your magical strength...I think it'd be easier for you, since you're female, ah, it's nice that someone noticed that, just concentrate, and you should feel a sort of pressure building up, but...don't strain yourself.  
  
I whisper. Being like this, I can feel Beowulf's hands underneath my own, his thumbs lightly stroking the curvature leading up to my thumbs. There is the scent of berries and daffodils fluttering past my nose, almost tantalizing in their freshness. The unnatural tightness of my dress squeezes my stomach and over my thighs.  
  
Once, I thought it was a good idea to make a dress out of the design of a female lancer's dress, pale yellow with a beige, simplistic dragon rising up from the bottom hem, the only adjustment being the raising of the collar' so that it goes over my chest. Because of the rather revealing nature of the dress, I opted to make a vest in the design of a female mediator's jacket, except in indigo. The male lancer boots that I've only worn once before complete the outfit, and the straps that are supposed to wrap around the upper legs are sort of cutting into my bare thighs.  
  
It's a case of it seemed like a good idea at the time'.  
  
There is a twinge of something more odd than painful in my head. I wonder if this is what Beowulf meant about pressure? Let's concentrate on it, then...  
  
A waterfall...Zirekile Falls. Papa took me there when I was seven. Crystalline blue water cascades down the steep cliff, crashing down past rocks thrust out of the cliff. We are at the bottom of the waterfall, and Papa kneels and collects some of the water in his cupped hands. I do the same, and the taste of the well-water at home could never compare.  
  
_Papa, do you think we could have water like this everyday?_  
  
Serving dinner--my dinner--for the first time. Nine years old. My family looks at the meal of braised behemoth and various vegetables, including the Selseta plants that are a staple at the family table. Mama smiles encouragingly at me as my small hands place the plate of meat on the table, and my brothers stare at the meal in awe. When they taste the food, it feels as if the sheer joy of a job well done is palpable in the air.  
  
_Everyone, please enjoy!_  
  
I walk to the table in the form I occupy now, nervously carrying a shank of bull demon beef. My family is seated at the table, but they don't face me when I approach. Everyone looks dully ahead. Frustrated, I place the plate on the table a little too hard, and their bodies shrivel into skeletons, dissolving into fine dust.  
  
...This isn't my memory. This...it's a dream, right? Beowulf...is this...  
  
There he is with his back to me. Imploringly I look at him, not going as far as to reach out and touch him. Slowly he turns, his face a complete blank. His eyes are redder than I remember them to be. His lips part, my name formed in shape but not in body.  
  
His eyes are red. As I stare the red starts to drip, running down his nicely angled face like bloody tears.  
  
N-no...!  
  
Darkness. Darkness enveloping me, deeper than what I used to hide myself for so many years, the emptiness of that one hole in my memory...  
  
(_Little one...that promise I will keep. A darkness like the night sky untainted..._)  
  
Red. Red. I almost remember this red...like flames.  
  
Yes.  
  
Fire...fire...I can feel it, licking, teasing...  
  
  
  
My eyes snap open, the sudden shock like a gulp of fresh air. I try to look at Beowulf, but my eyes don't seem to be focusing...wavering...fire? Looking down, there are flames engulfing my hands.  
  
...!!?  
  
The flames dissipate, vanishing even as they attempt to curl and flare.  
  
...  
  
Beowulf cautiously approaches me, staring at my hands in unbridled shock. I don't need to look down to see why he's so shocked, so I don't.  
  
Nothing hurts.  
  
I raise my hands to him, attempting a smile at the same time.  
  
Don't say my name like that...like there's something wrong with me...  
  
Nothing hurts, my voice sounds fairly calm to my own ears, even a little proud, I'm okay, Beowulf.  
  
I feel numb.  
  
Suddenly, I find myself squashed against his chest, his hands pressed fiercely into my hair, fingers clutching the back of my head. his voice is trembling and that scares me, it really does...  
  
Those memories...images...they didn't scare me as much as he is right now.  
  
Why am I always doing this to him?  
  
Why am I always hurting the both of us?  
  
I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm really okay... the assurances keep pouring out of my mouth and into his chest. My arms are around his waist, holding him as tightly as he's holding me, almost painfully and yet... I'm sorry, I'm really sorry...  
  
Please forgive me...  
  
He pulls away slightly, staring at me with pain-stricken eyes. These eyes are red, the same red I've always loved, and they're normal and not doing anything strange. Oh God, thank God... I'm never going to teach you black magic again, there is the barest silver of humor in his words, but he's also resolute.  
  
Good. I don't ever want to learn magic again.  
  
I'm sick of worrying him.  
  
I'm sorry... the apology comes out through an exhalation, light and breezy and belying the true intent of my words.  
  
Why do I keep doing this to him?  
  
Slowly he loosens his grip, his hands moving to my face and cupping it gently. You must be a natural if you could cast a spell without my telling you specifically how to, I bite my lip at this. I don't know how I managed to do that either... though, magic's based a bit on moods too... there's a question in his eyes, but knowing him he won't push the subject.  
  
But...I do want to tell him. I have to tell him.  
  
Maybe...maybe then I can ease his mind a bit.  
  
--_Reis, if there's something you want to talk about, I'm right here. I'll always be here for you_--  
  
But I also feel a bit tired right now.   
  
He looks at me attentively, thumbs softly stroking my cheekbones.  
  
I...I want to tell you something, but I feel sleepy right now... I trail off, feeling odd. Heavy. I must be more tired than I thought I was.  
  
Letting go of my face, he looks at me curiously. Do you want to go back? I shake my head, the movement languorous. Hm, you really do look tired. I was out of sorts too after I cast my first spell, roughened fingers touch my face and I lean into his hand, my eyes closing, should I get you some water?  
  
I move up to him, tightening my hold. Stay with me, I yawn, and I can feel the reverberations in his chest as he chuckles. He lays back and I follow suit with my eyes still closed, cuddling up to him as he wraps his arms around me.  
  
There is the familiar touch of his lips against my forehead. Sleep well, Reis. I love you.  
  
Even as exhausted as I am, I still smile. I love you too.  
  
I hear him say, but all I can do as I sink into sleep is to hold him just a bit more tightly.  
  
It's the least I can do for him.  
  
-------  
  
Bright.  
  
Warm.  
  
...Two sets of breathing? Hm, wait, this isn't a , though. And, my legs can't stretch all the way in my bed...  
  
Blearily I open my eyes, which immediately focus on...scarf. Scarf and a bit of neck and face. Ah, Beowulf. Craning my neck up, I can see that his...eye is closed. That would account for the slow, deep breathing. Hm. He looks cute like this. He also looks content. I lower my head back down to his shoulder, snuggling into his solid frame even more. Our arms are around each other, and in this moment I  
  
Happy.  
  
Beowulf mumbles something that I can't pick up, shifting around slightly for what seems to be no reason at all other than to move around, oh, hello there, chapped lips press firmly against my forehead. That's not one of his better opening lines.  
  
I should tell him about what I was thinking about...except that he has his lips pressed just below my ear, right along the edge of my jawline. My ears pick up the sound of inhalation through the nose, then again...then again. Is he... Beowulf, do you have a cold?  
  
You smell nice, his words sound like they're backed up with that familiar smile of his. My face feels hot...that's a bit obscure for a compliment, isn't it? you've always smelled like this...something deep, yet gentle. It fits you well, he kisses my neck, is it a perfume?  
  
What's a perfume'? I...I don't know what that is.  
  
It's a scented liquid that women put on themselves so they can smell better, there's amusement threading his words, Sis likes that stuff.  
  
Why would I need that? But I bathe everyday. Isn't that good enough?  
  
He laughs, lips caressing my neck. Yes it is, love.  
  
...? You've never called me that before, I murmur, raising my head up--and away from the distracting touch of his lips, even if I _do_ like it--to get a better look into his eyes.  
  
the arm currently encircling my waist disengages, his hand moving up to caress my face. There is the barest flicker of hesitation in his eyes before it washes away in the normal warmth usually present in them, you've never told me that you loved me before.  
  
Loved'? Present tense, I whisper. Confusion crosses his face, I love you, not   
  
Ah, well, that's good, he grins, fingers entangling in the strand of hair closest to his hand, it'd be depressing if you loved me and I never knew until after the feeling passed.  
  
I couldn't do that, the words rush out of my mouth. It was instinct to say that, but, um...what do I say now? Beowulf, you're really...you're... a word, I need a word, precious to me.  
  
His eyes narrow as his smile stays, making for a very...interesting effect. You've become quite the sweet-talker. I'm impressed.  
  
Not compared to him. I raise an eyebrow. I've learned from the best, my voice is little more than a murmur as his lips close in on my own, speaking of talking...  
  
He pulls away. Oops. What is it? This is said with no small amount of interest.  
  
It makes me feel comfortable knowing that he's interested in what I have to say.  
  
I...I can do this.  
  
About earlier... hm, no, that's not exactly true, well, actually, for the whole day there's been something on my mind, and I think... well, it's most likely, that's why I, ah, messed up that spell earlier.  
  
You didn't mess it up, he says firmly, it was just unexpected, that's all.  
  
I'm not sure about that, but... If you say so, how am I supposed to say this? I was thinking about my family.  
  
Brandy eyes continue to exude encouragement. What about your family? His deep voice is soothing, so kind and gentle...  
  
But it's hard to admit some things, even with this sort of support.  
  
In two weeks, I'll have been separated from my family for eight years.  
  
It's so hard to hear me say that. In my mind...it doesn't sound as real in my mind.  
  
there is a myriad of emotions flashing in his dark eyes, and I can't...they're so complicated that I don't understand them, I remember you said you were an orphan once, so when you say separated', do you mean that they're de--  
  
and it scares me a little to hear my voice that hard, that harsh, especially towards Beowulf, but... I'm sorry, I close my eyes, I just don't like to hear it that way.  
  
I don't believe it.  
  
There's a dominant emotion in his eyes now. Confusion. he says softly, calloused fingers back to moving along my face in rhythmic patterns, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.  
  
I keep reacting like this.  
  
--_They're dead, aren't--_  
  
--_Where is your family?_--  
  
Maybe we've all been living under the shadow of war for so long that it's hard to see anything other than the cloak of death thrown over us. But I can't...I can't let myself believe that!  
  
As long as I don't know, there must be some hope...  
  
Someone like me can cling to hope, right?  
  
You know, it'd be a good idea to go to Bariaus Hill sometime soon, before autumn hits, he says in a thoughtful tone. I look at him curiously. Why home? I mean, there's bound to be some sort of hint there, I'd think.  
  
Really? After eight years?  
  
He shrugs. It's a start.  
  
Well, that's good, but... You...you don't have to get involved. I should be fine on my own.  
  
I mean, we're talking about my family here. I'm not going to drag him around when he's got so many other duties to attend to.  
  
Hm...if you feel up to it we could go right after the birthday celebrations pass, my face goes blank. Was he even listening to me? but we probably shouldn't leave any later than the first week of September...  
  
...Hn. If he feels strongly enough that he's going to ignore me, then fine. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if he were around. I...who knows what we'll find?  
  
Thank you, Beowulf, I smile. His listening to me--for the most part--makes me feel a lot better about all of this.  
  
--_You're not alone_--  
  
I...he really was right about that, even though he said it months ago.  
  
You're too polite sometimes, a grin appears on his face as the hand on my face slides through my hair to the back of my head, but if you really want to thank me...  
  
As his lips press against mine, I can't help but wonder who exactly am I thanking: him, for being his kind, caring self? Or me, for finally going ahead on my promises to myself and talking to him about the important things before it's too late?  
  
Politeness has quite a few benefits.

-End to chapter 18-

Wow, late chapter. Haven't had one of those since I started this schedule. Finals weren't so bad, but I'll admit to having problems with this chapter, which are probably still apparent with its lack of cohesiveness.  
  
(12/26/03: Revised. Not terribly different from the original, although I felt that the only thing that screamed bad' was something Beowulf said after Reis' fire spell mishap.)  
  
-Chantage: This chapter takes over the regen' part of the item, just for those who think I've gotten lazy with my subtitles.  
  
- Ajora's birthday': He's a Virgo, right? August 23rd is the first day of Virgo.  
  
-I'm basing Ivalician women's desirability off of those European pictures back in yonder centuries with all those women with voluptuous figures. Seems normal enough, although I'm having a hard time figuring out the overall basis for Ivalice as far as a comparable time (yes, the Rose War, I understand, but when you factor in the incredible liberal-ness--see the proposition Final Resistance' at Riovanes--my head starts hurting.)  
  
-The concept art for the female dragoon/lancer is markedly different from the game sprite, which is a bit unusual for this game. I only use the concept art for the outfits.  
  
-Yes, next week's chapter will come out on time, otherwise known as half an hour from Wednesday morning'. I'm looking forward to it.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Luna, I'm glad you liked the interlude. Meh, you're so lucky you were able to see Mog's desperation attack; me, I've only seen Terra's, Celes' and Relm's, and that took forever. But I can see how you'd like Mog the best, he's always in my main party. I hope you were able to get all your projects and tests done well, my finals burned me out.  
Here's a random question for you: what do you think about Algus?  
  
Junketsuna kishi...that's an interesting name. However, my mind's drawing a blank. Care to fill me in on what it means? You've been reading for a fairly long time if you started all the way back in chapter 7 (September, right? All the weeks started piling together after a while...)! I appreciate the compliments, and I certainly hope I can improve too...what do you think I need to improve in, by the way? I need all the help I can get! And thanks about my pen name, although everybody that remarks on it seems to translate it wrong.  
Another interlude, huh...I may have one or two more ideas in mind...  
  
Thank you, Miss Ayanami! (Eva, huh?) I find it's more fun to develop the characters rather than the plot. And yeah, I've got to make sure this story connects with the game, even if it's just little things like the name of a guy that dies in the same scene you meet him in...  
  
Thank you for reading! Please, if you have any questions or comments, I'd love to hear them!  
  
Chapter 19: False Artemis (_Who wins in the game of life?_): (_Childling, this is our boon. In return for your help, we can lift the darkness that blinds you from your true potential._) 


	20. 19: False Artemis

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

_I sa ya, I sa ya  
I si ma cozy  
I sa ya, I sa ya  
Trasi ma cozy  
Santi-u na ni du-na  
Dra ma ta jo_  
  
Chapter 19: False Artemis (_Who wins in the game of life?_)  
  
Nn...nhm...my head hurts...sleep will cure that...  
  
...  
  
...Ah, fine, I'll get up.  
  
Sullenly I sit up, fingers at my temples in a vain effort to quell my headache. My mouth is so dry. I try blinking a few times, unsurprised at how stuck' my eyelids feel. Ah, I can't rub my temples and my eyes at the same time...  
  
--THDD--  
  
...What was that sound? And why is my bed shaking...?  
  
--THDDTHDDTHDDTHDD--  
  
I fall onto my bed, pressing myself flat against it as the ground shakes violently to the time of the...footsteps?  
  
What could be heavy enough to do that...hn. No, that's not the right question.  
  
What could be heavy enough to do that and be in Lionel castle town?'  
  
...Oh, no.  
  
--THDDTHDDTHDD--  
  
Cautiously I start moving off of my bed, flinching as the ground moves when my toe touches the cold, stone floor. Okay, don't be scared...I let myself slide off the bed, standing perfectly still as  
  
--THddthddthdd--  
  
the footsteps thunder away from the church.  
  
I don't like this.  
  
Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, door. Okay. Reaching out for the doorknob, I grasp it with my clammy left hand. A nervous tremble rises from my stomach as I clutch the cool metal just a little bit harder.  
  
Once I open this door, I can't go back to my blissful ignorance.  
  
Easily the knob turns, the door opens and the world outside of my tiny room is revealed.  
  
Oh...  
  
Steel hawks glide along the summer sky, diving at an unlucky knight. He bats at them with his sword as he and two others face down a regular adult-sized behemoth. A herd of behemoth stomp away from the debacle, unsteadily heading towards the south end of town. I squint, seeing an unnatural blue among the nice houses of the east side. A gasp escapes me when I realize that blue is actually a blue dragon storming about, crashing through the nice but thin-walled homes.  
  
Hm...?  
  
Something's wrong with them.  
  
Now that I think about it, those steel hawks are missing far more than they should against three knights who are distracted enough as is. Their dives are wobbly, and it seems that they can't recover as quickly from them. That behemoth charging at the knights looks more than a little disoriented as it shakily crashes through the protective triangle that the three men have formed...to protect their backs, I suppose?  
  
(_DIE!_)  
  
I clench my teeth and the doorknob as the behemoth's bellow slams into my ears.  
  
Die'? Behemoths are violent, but...  
  
(_HUMANS...DIE!_)  
  
...I don't remember them being this proactive about it.  
  
(_HUMAN...SAID...KILL!_)  
  
What?  
  
The behemoth viciously smashes one of the knights away with one of its horns, but the other two knights take advantage of that and slash at the monster. The blades sink into the massive flesh of the beast, carving unevenly into muscle. A copious spray of red is elicited at each blow, and the behemoth roars piteously before sinking into a pool of its own blood.  
  
What a horrible end. Not anywhere as graceful as Mama and Papa could've ended it...  
  
The knights help up their comrade and they stare at the steel hawks, who should now know better than to stay around but are still diving badly and...  
  
I slam the door, turning away from the carnage.  
  
I don't know...I don't know, but...  
  
--HUMAN...SAID...KILL!--  
  
These monsters...they aren't doing this because they want to. Monsters may be violent when someone invades their habitat, but...why would they come down from Bariaus Hill and invade a town unless...  
  
Said'.  
  
A mediator.  
  
My eyes look around my bare room, falling upon my valise.  
  
I can't let someone do this to innocent monsters--as oxymoronic as that sounds--from my home.  
  
One step.  
  
What can I do?  
  
Two steps.  
  
I can talk to the monsters. I can calm them down. I don't think they want to be here either.  
  
Three steps.  
  
I can find Beowulf and tell him that it's not the monsters' fault, that someone's controlling them.  
  
Four steps.  
  
I can hunt this mediator down.  
  
I crouch down in front of my valise, methodically digging through my clothes, trying to find something I can move comfortably in. Ah, my old ninja tights and female squire dress should do. Now, where are they...  
  
A small voice deep within me shrieks, _why are you doing this!? The knights can take care of it! You're just a cataloger now, a cataloger from Murond who can't even cast a fire spell right!_  
  
...Is that _all_ I am?  
  
I've never needed to use magic before Murond. I never needed to learn how to read, or file books away, or translate.  
  
I've never needed someone to protect me.  
  
Before that black hole in my memory, before Murond...I was a hunter.  
  
I'm sure Mama would do no less.  
  
-----  
  
My footsteps tap quietly against the floor of the church as I walk towards the front. These ninja boots are really quiet. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the mass of the behemoth still in its own blood. The bodies of a number of steel hawks are scattered around it. It looks like a bizarre centerpiece in one of those elaborate church rituals. The blood of the monsters could be the wine the priests partake...  
  
Hm...today is Ajora's birthday. How...fitting.  
  
The knights are long gone...probably slaughtering other monsters.  
  
...I shouldn't think of it that way. They're just doing their job, trying to protect this town, but...if they only knew what I knew...  
  
Well, who's to say that they wouldn't do this anyway?  
  
What are you doing out, Reis?  
  
Verden? I look over to my right, where Verden stands next to the main doors in more elaborate robes than usual. The doors of the nave are open, and I notice a fair amount of white mages standing behind the threshold, fidgeting about. Focusing my eyes on Verden again, I notice that he looks stressed and...something else. I'm going to help, I say simply.  
  
There really isn't much more to say than that, is there?  
  
Verden's voice is strained, his light eyes boring into mine, How do you intend to do that? I didn't transfer you here in order to risk yourself unnecessarily. Leave this for the knights to handle!  
  
So they can hack through Bariaus Hill's monster population, endangering themselves and the monsters? But killing isn't the only solution, I look past him, to the white mages. Scarlet is there among them, an unscrutable expression blanketing her face. Hm...I don't understand...why aren't they helping out there? shouldn't the white mages be assisting the knights?  
  
His stressed expression shifts into something that shatters his normal calmness just a little bit more. I'm not sure what it is, but it's ugly in the way it darkens his eyes. I will not risk their lives, his voice is hard.  
  
Risk their lives'? It says in the book I've been translating that a white mage's purpose is to heal others, no matter what, holding back a sigh at Verden's lack of change in his attitude, I look over at the land before the church, where various monsters are roaming. The battle cries from both humans and monsters floods my hearing in shuddering waves, what if Sir Kadmus had decided not to risk his men's lives?  
  
He would be reprimanded, he wrings his hands, hiding them within the sleeves of his robes, knights are supposed to protect the people.  
  
And white mages are supposed to heal, and I... I shake my head, I can help as well.  
  
To my ears, it sounds weird...but it feels right.  
  
I forbid it, Verden looks at me evenly, eyes flaring with something...I'm not sure, you are a cataloger under Murond authority. You need to stay here with the other townspeople, you need to wait until the town is safe again, his voice is threaded with a pleading quality, and it hurts.  
  
--_Reis, you deserve it. Please, take it and don't worry about coming in for work tomorrow_--  
  
What happened to that calm, tranquil man who treated me kindly when I first arrived?  
  
--_I simply do not wish for the white mages, most of them young, innocent girls, to be manipulated into relationships in order to satiate more...sinful desires_--  
  
Now...Verden is all too human, but...he's not the human that Beowulf is.  
  
--_Do be careful, Reis. As a cataloger from Murond, I hold you to the highest moral standard_--  
  
Beowulf likes it when I talk to other people, when I do things that I usually wouldn't do. But Verden wants me to stay in this shell.  
  
--_As a cataloger from Murond_--  
  
But I can't.  
  
--_Cataloger_--  
  
That's not who I really am.  
  
I need to be true to myself, my voice is quiet. I don't think it's possible for me to say this loudly, in a demanding tone, and we all have responsibilities to commit to.  
  
Every minute I waste arguing my case, someone could get hurt.  
  
Someone could die.  
  
Beowulf could...  
  
You are a cataloger, your responsibilities lie with the Church! Verden exclaims, finally losing whatever patience he had with me.  
  
The Church, huh... Lionel castle town belongs to the Church, I murmur, then I walk out of the church.  
  
I'm sorry, Verden, but the only person that I'll let protect me is myself.  
  
-----  
  
A fair number of buildings have been destroyed in the southwestern part of town. However, it seems like most of the damage was caused by large monsters cramming themselves through the alleyways. This mediator must've completely broken their minds for them to do something like that. Monsters aren't stupid. In reality, they're all very intelligent.  
  
Hunters...master hunters know this more than anyone. Even if we hunt them down, we still respect them. They're all just following their roles in life.  
  
We all are.  
  
It's so easy to fall back into this persona of Reis Dular of Bariaus Hill, the hunter', I can't understand how I could've ever left it.  
  
Why did I...?  
  
...Hn.  
  
In front of me is an exit out of this alley I've been tiptoeing through. It doesn't lead to the shopping area, but rather a place I've never been to in all my months of staying in Lionel. It's an abandoned, empty area...well, except for the behemoth and the knight occupying it. The monster is an adult, and the knight is...familiar? A blonde with brown eyes...  
  
--_Good evening, Sir Kadmus_--  
  
...ah, he was one of the knights at the door the night of the ball, with Riola. I remember. He's the loud one. He's in a battle-ready stance, holding his sword in front of him in a defensive way. Looking down, I see that his legs are shaking.  
  
He's afraid...and he's showing it.  
  
The behemoth charges down upon him, and the familiar knight begins to move...then hesitates.  
  
My hands fly up to my mouth.  
  
No...!  
  
With sickening speed, the behemoth rushes towards the young knight, twisting its neck slightly as it does so. The knight tries to escape, and nearly succeeds...but not before one of the monster's horns plunges into his side with a horrifically thick, wet sound. Thrusting its head to the side, the behemoth dislodges the man from its horn. He smashes into the ground in a limp heap.  
  
He didn't even have time to scream...  
  
And then the behemoth looks up at me and growls.  
  
(_ANOTHER ONE...KILL..._)  
  
I could run, but I don't think I can outrun it. And even if I could and found someone else to handle it...no. That man needs help now. I won't be a link in the chain of dependence.  
  
I can do this.  
  
Why do you want to kill so badly? My voice is shaky. That's not good.  
  
It takes a step towards me.  
  
(_KILL..._)  
  
This isn't the way your kind normally should behave, a stronger voice, but...  
  
Another step.  
  
(_HUMAN..._)  
  
This is not where you belong, almost steady...  
  
A summer breeze from the west ruffles through the behemoth's yellow mane, lifts up the skirt of my yellow dress slightly.  
  
It stops.  
  
(_KILL!_)  
  
Then it charges.  
  
--_If a monster charges at you, don't think, jump and roll to the side_--  
  
The mass of the charging beast rushes past me as I follow Papa's lesson, the wind smashing into me as I roll, hands protecting my neck in the manner that he showed me, so long ago. With my position on the ground, I watch as it slows enough to turn around...then it starts racing at me again.  
  
--_A somersault is good if you're on the ground and you need to avoid an attack_--  
  
I roll and roll without knowing what I'm doing, where my momentum will take me, narrowly avoiding the massive behemoth intent on killing me. I somersault clumsily, running into the prone knight. He cries out in agony. I'm sorry, I whisper, untangling myself out of my balled-up position.  
  
...There's his sword, right next to him.  
  
Grabbing the hilt, I wince at how heavy the weapon is. Two-handed...I don't know how to use a two-handed weapon, let alone a knight sword. The behemoth, a fair distance away, stares at me warily as I move away from the fallen knight, holding the blade out in front of me with clammy hands.  
  
I don't know how to use a sword, but I suppose I'd better learn now.  
  
--_As women, it's not to our advantage to use heavy weapons. Our weight and muscle structure can't support the weight of an ax or sword, which is why I've been teaching you with the crossbow and daggers_--  
  
Not helpful, Mama...  
  
--_If you ever find yourself using a heavy weapon, then it's a matter of one-hit kill'. If you can't fatally wound the monster in one hit, you'll have used up all your energy swinging that heavy weapon around. In other words, you'll be at the mercy of the monster_--  
  
One-hit kill'? How can I do that on a _behemoth_?  
  
--_Hopefully you'll get heavier later on so you'll have more strength, but the only way to do this is by slicing through a weak point, some sort of juncture..._--  
  
A juncture...  
  
The behemoth steps towards me again, intending on charging at me. If I don't kill it when it does, I won't be able to dodge again with this sword.  
  
I had forgotten how truly dangerous hunting was, but when we were all together it seemed as if we were invincible...  
  
A juncture...the only juncture I can think of is the one right below the jaw structure. But with that shaggy mane, I can't tell if there's a weakness there, or lots of flesh that this blade will have to carve through...  
  
I'm not even sure I'm strong enough to do this.  
  
Translating is so much safer...  
  
(_HUMAN..._)  
  
I shift my weight onto the balls of my feet.  
  
(_THAT HUMAN..._)  
  
The thick rawhide covering the hilt is cutting into my hands...now I understand why Beowulf's hands are so calloused, even if he uses gloves. My left hand is on the bottom, the wrist of my right hand pointing skyward. It helps in propping the sword up.  
  
(_ALL OF YOU..._)  
  
Adjusting my hold slightly, the length of the blade is horizontal to my body, the edge towards the monster...and diagonally up.  
  
(_KILL!!_)  
  
I've got too many things to live for to die!  
  
As the behemoth charges at me, dull yellow eyes flaring with hate, two-cloved hooves smashing into the ground with each step, I notice one thing.  
  
It's all so clear.  
  
I take a few steps forward, swinging the blade upward, hearing the satisfying sound of the blade tearing through fur and flesh and  
  
--CRAK--  
  
!!!  
  
Pain explodes out of my right wrist as it bends back unnaturally and I collapse, rolling instinctively out of the way. Every bone in my wrist seems to be grinding together as my hand flops around uselessly, twisting and colliding together and there are so many different kinds of pain but I've never experienced physical pain like this but I won't black out, I won't...  
  
I won't...  
  
I won't...  
  
Get up...  
  
Get...up...!  
  
Holding my arm--I don't even want to try and touch my wrist right now--against my chest with the help of my left hand, I shakily stand, waves of nausea rolling thickly in my stomach in time with the agony thudding through my right arm. My vision is blurry, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, but I can still see.  
  
The behemoth is down on its back, bellowing while weakly twisting around. The blade of the sword is stuck deep in its neck, not far enough to decapitate it, but it's a fatal wound. Blood, deep red to the point of black, stains its mane around the wound.  
  
And I thought I was suffering...  
  
I can't let this go on. I'm a hunter, not a murderer.  
  
With deep jabs of pain stabbing through my right arm with each step I take, I manage to walk over to monster. It does not try to get away from me, or even blindly attack me as other monsters would in its case.  
  
I'm sorry... a mere pittance, but it's all I can offer. It growls pathetically.  
  
(_DEATH...PREFERABLE TO...THAT VOICE..._)  
  
To be forcefully controlled...I think I can understand why it would say that.  
  
To be controlled against your will is worse than death.  
  
I kneel carefully, taking ahold of the hilt of the sword with my left hand, and rip out the sword from its neck. My arm is jolted and a fresh bolt of pain wracks through it, but I grit my teeth and try to ignore it. The blood gurgles in its throat as the behemoth tries to growl, yet it's very much alive.  
  
(_DEATH...PL..._)  
  
Forgive me, although I don't believe it can listen to me anymore. Gritting my teeth, I manage to hold the tip of the blade over its heart. I close my eyes and plunge the sword into its chest.  
  
The air...its last breath rattles in the wound in its throat.  
  
It's dead.  
  
This isn't...this isn't what I set out to do...I...  
  
As a member of a hunter-family, I'm very used to seeing monsters die. I've killed, but this was...this was gratuitous compared...  
  
I can't do this right now. No angsting. Others--both monster and human--will die unless I find the mediator responsible for this.  
  
I won't let this happen again.  
  
Very carefully, I yank out the sword from the behemoth's chest, grimacing as the agony pounds through my arm. I turn around, dragging the tip of the sword on the ground, and I notice the knight has somehow pushed himself up into a sitting--more like hunched-over--position. Dropping the sword, I walk over to him while trying vainly not to jolt my right arm with each step. I kneel beside him gently, taking in his features. He's in agony, yet he actually attempts to smile at me.  
  
Hey there, Miss Reis, he groans, holding onto his right side, d'ya mind if I...if I rest my head on your lap?  
  
I don't mind, and he very gently lays down, staring at me in a way that makes me blush, is there anything else I can do for you?  
  
He smiles, looking like a little boy. Nah, this already like a dream come true, he winces, 'cept for the agonizing as hell pain' part. I'm, like, no masochist, he pauses, staring up at me with wide brown eyes, my name's Ryan. Ryan Mikner. I was really impressed by the way...the way you took care of that hella ugly monster. That was totally sweet...  
  
...Maybe it's the steady waves of pain and nausea, but I don't understand what he's saying. He could be delirious. Excuse me?  
  
Oh, yeah, totally...I always thought you were...you're like awesome, real beautiful and quiet and stuff and... his breathing is getting labored, yet his eyes are still steady, and like, even before today I had this major crush on you...  
  
Hm, considering the odd way he's talking, I think... Maybe you shouldn't talk.  
  
Nah, it's all good, I know I'm gonna die sooner or later, the smile on his face is peaceful. Tears spring up in my eyes because...that sort of smile... ...hey, don't look at me like you're gonna start crying...I can't stand it when girls cry...I... slowly he removes one hand from his wound and reaches up, touching my cheek. Something wet streaks against my cheek, and I know it's not my tears.  
  
I can't even save this man...  
  
We need a laying of the hands here!  
  
...Huh?  
  
A flurry of white mages approach us, a couple pushing me away as they proceed to lay their hands on him. There are bright lights competing with the morning sun emanating from the center of the group.  
  
...?  
  
So, what's wrong with you? Scarlet's voice is as imperious as ever, and when I look up I'm not surprised to see her hovering above me with a rather bland look on her face.  
  
Carefully, I hold out my arm to her. I broke my right wrist.  
  
She grasps it. I bite my tongue in an effort not to scream as things grind in my wrist. Stand up, she demands, and I try to do so, even though my knees feel wobbly, by the Holy Saint, break' is one thing, but you've absolutely pulverized about every bone in your wrist. What were you trying to do, anyway?  
  
I grit out through my painfully clenched teeth. She shakes her head at this even as a light shines from her hand...warm...  
  
Hmph, first time, right? It's a common injury among squires, but most of them don't hold on long enough to let this much damage occur, I glare at her dully through tear-filled eyes and she smirks, I honestly do need to hold your wrist in order to heal the break. Hands-on healing is the best way, after all.  
  
...I'm not sure I can believe that.  
  
In my wrist, I can feel bones fusing back together, muscles repairing, and an overwhelming sense of wellness. She lets go of my hand and I move it experimentally. It still hurts, but it's a lot better than before. Thank you, I can't help but let a little bitterness about how she treated my wrist flow into my words, and judging by her shrug, she doesn't care what I think, will Sir Mikner be all right?  
  
her attention is drawn to the behemoth's corpse, so, I'm to assume you did that?  
  
Not because I really wanted to.   
  
Almost impressive, she drawls, but don't you have another responsibility to respond to?  
  
I have to find Beowulf.   
  
Then, what are you waiting for? Go, her dark eyes have a hint of amusement in them, if a little cataloger like you is fated by Saint Ajora Himself to save my adopted home on His birthday, of all days, then you'd better do it as quickly as possible, she narrows her eyes, but it doesn't seem like she's glaring at me, not exactly, I'm not anymore fond of healing as you are of your own duties, whatever those may be.  
  
Hn...  
  
Thank you, I say calmly, walking past her to pick up my' discarded sword. Thank God I'm ambidextrous. There are reddish-brown trails staining the once silver blade. There is blood staining the ground beneath the behemoth, and beneath Mikner.  
  
There is blood everywhere, but none of it is mine.  
  
Is it fortunate to see the blood of others spilled, but none of my own?  
  
-----  
  
_Me wo samase  
Iyashii mono-tachi  
Me wo samase  
Chi'e wo mottakedamono  
Sei'iki wa amaku yawarakai  
Mi wo azukereba, oboreru_  
  
-----  
  
I am a hunter.  
  
There are the sounds of battle in the shopping street. It sounds like most of the knights are there. I heard a woman scream to a Cherise' a couple times...she sounds like a mother looking for her child. God, of all things to happen in this situation. Most of the sounds that aren't battle cries are instead the sickly thick sounds of metal and bone cutting into flesh.  
  
I am a hunter.  
  
Something in me wants to help them, but I don't know which them' I can help. So instead I press on after making sure that Beowulf isn't among the knights there. I need to hurry, but the din of the battle is distracting when I've never used my senses in this way before.  
  
I am a hunter.  
  
Beowulf had the interesting habit of talking to himself. He stopped once he realized that I can hear anything he says. I can't help it, I love listening to his voice. Or, at least, I think he just stopped doing that around me.  
  
I am a hunter.  
  
If ever there was a time that he would talk to himself, I think this is it. And with my hearing, I can find him easily. The alternative...no. If he can survive a war, he can survive this.  
  
Humans are far worse than monsters when it comes to death.  
  
I wander around the southeastern part of town, a maze of homes belonging to the peasantry of the town. Judging by the rubble and damaged walls, a lot of large monsters have been through this area, like that blue dragon I saw earlier. I haven't seen any other dragons, though...  
  
_God, I can't figure out why the hell this is happening._  
  
A faint murmur...north. Gently I walk through the narrow street, making sure that the tip of the sword isn't dragging on the ground. I've had far too many near-misses by other monsters since that behemoth to reveal my position to some hidden creature now.  
  
_I wish I had an ether on me...I feel like I'm practically drained._  
  
North-northeast. It certainly sounds like Beowulf. But the voice isn't moving...is he injured?  
  
_Just a little longer, then I'll move again. Sounds like the worst of it is at the shopping area. I hope everyone's okay._  
  
Northeast. He's talking at a fairly normal tone for him, but his voice sounds strained.  
  
He's okay, isn't he?  
  
Ah...when I said I'd go with Reis to Bariaus Hill, I didn't think that the hill would come to us.  
  
East. Hm...I guess that means that the knights still don't know that a mediator's controlling all these monsters. Although...now that I think about it, how powerful is this mediator to control so many monsters that ordinarily wouldn't obey a human?  
  
I hope she's okay. If that overprotective git's good for one thing, keeping her out of harm's way is it.  
  
I turn the corner of a dilapidated building. Beowulf is there in his normal uniform with his sword strapped on his back, sitting on some rubble. He looks exhausted. Hello, Beowulf, I murmur. He quickly looks up at me, eyes impossibly wide.  
  
Beowulf stands, eyes moving over me a couple times before they settle on my face. I move my right arm behind my back, trying to hide my now-bloated wrist from him, Why are you here? Why do you have blood on your face, and why are you carrying a knight's sword...and whose blood is that on the sword?  
  
...I guess I couldn't actually expect him to be overjoyed at seeing me, considering what he was just saying. It's not any of my blood, looking at his face, this is a minor comfort, the blood on my face is from Sir Mikner, and I used his sword to fight a behemoth.  
  
There's a lot of things running through his eyes before he finally settles on worried confusion.   
  
I mean, I killed a behemoth, the confusion on his face changes right into shock...I guess I can't blame him. I didn't think I could do it either, I've been looking for you...I can help you.  
  
Slowly he draws in a deep breath. I'm taking you back to the church. This isn't something you should get involved in--  
  
I won't go, my voice is firm, my determination high, you need to know that this isn't the monsters' fault. A mediator has coerced them to invade this town. If we find this person, we can release the monsters from that control and they'll peacefully return to Bariaus Hill, a dark look crosses his face and I hasten to finish, and I can find that person.  
  
Beowulf gives me a hard stare, so unlike him, but...this whole situation is stressing, not that I don't believe you, but how can you be so sure that you can find this person?  
  
Even with the pain, with that look in his eyes, I smile. I found you, didn't I?  
  
Something completely breaks in his stare, revealing an extreme range of emotions twisting in his dark eyes. You're not...you're not supposed to be this brave, he whispers, walking up to me. Lightly he rests his forehead on mine, gloved fingers stroking my cheeks, and I close my eyes. The leather of his gloves is rough, but not pleasurably so like his bare touch, why are you doing this? His question brushes against my lips but I don't move.  
  
I'm painfully aware of the situation.  
  
Because I have the ability to, I whisper back, because I want to help you.  
  
I want you to depend on me as much as I've grown to depend on you.  
  
When we find this person, or if we run into a monster...I don't want you to fight, I back away, ready to protest, but my voice dies in my throat when I look into his eyes. Those beautiful brandy eyes...they're scary now, please, Reis.  
  
I don't want to consent. I didn't come all this way to be forced into such a limiting promise. But if I don't say yes' to those eyes, I might do something worse than a behemoth ever could.  
  
Being emotionally open like this really limits my options from the days where I did things just for myself.  
  
I look down. I turn around, my back to him, but...   
  
Why take away my choices?  
  
Because you're something worth protecting. Because even someone like me can be brave if I have that sort of inspiration in mind.  
  
I'm not worth your life, I mutter, unwilling to turn around.  
  
You're worth more than that, what? I turn around...why does he have that small smile on his face at a time like this? aren't we going to go?  
  
I don't see why it's acceptable for him to give up his life for me, but not vice-versa. Not like this is the time to wonder about that...  
  
but actually... why aren't you in your Shrine Knight armor? Wouldn't that be safer?  
  
That'd probably get me killed, actually, he walks up to my side, it's made out of gold, which is entirely too soft to withstand any damage, and I wouldn't be able to move as quickly in it, we start moving forward, what happened to Mikner?  
  
Hm...I can't hear anything yet. The white mages came to help just as he was becoming delirious.  
  
A mediator depends on talking, so it should be easy to find this person as well.  
  
Ah, that's good, Beowulf murmurs, and were they able to help you with your hand?  
  
...He's not supposed to be that observant. Why do I even try? This was the best they could do, I shift my hold on the hilt of the sword. My left hand's feeling sore...  
  
  
  
North-northwest. A female. Accented...can't place it.  
  
Hm.  
  
His voice is tinged with surprise.  
  
I found her, I whisper, north end of town.  
  
Odd...no response? I glance up at him. He has a strange expression on his face. You can hear that far?  
  
If I concentrate, finally, this absurdly sensitive hearing has a use. It only took eight years, let's go.  
  
Quietly as possible, we make our way up to the northern entrance of town. I notice an odd lack of monsters prowling confusedly about, which doesn't bode well for either the knights in the southern end of town, or the various species populations of Bariaus Hill.  
  
It scares me now to think of all the living creatures that depend on me and Beowulf. Maybe Beowulf is used to this sort of thing, considering who he is, but me...  
  
Somehow, no matter what happens once we reach the mediator, there will still be blood on my hands. The injured, the those have been avoided if I'd done things a little differently?  
  
Is my best ever really good enough?  
  
Finally, we reach the northern gate. Looking around the corner of a building, we can see a curly-haired brunette in mediator-like clothes, but...they're foreign. The cut of the jacket, the style of the dress...that's not like an Ivalician mediator. She's surrounded by dragons and hydras, all complacently standing about. That's a mediator? Beowulf whispers behind me.  
  
I mutter back, what can you do from here?  
  
Let's see... turning around, I notice that he's taken his sword out from its scabbard on his back, holding it out in front of him as he concentrates. I turn back and watch as the foreign mediator wavers around, knees buckling...then she looks directly in our direction and points something at us. There is a loud explosion, and something swishes past us, smashing into the building on the other side of the street.  
  
COME OUT!  
  
Stay here, Beowulf whispers as he sheathes his sword and walks out from behind the cover of the building.  
  
Both of you.  
  
Silently I follow, dropping my own borrowed sword with a loud clanging noise. With that sort of resistance, there's no way that Mama's one-hit kill' method would ever work, especially with the condition of my hand.  
  
Oh, and I did promise not to fight.  
  
Hn.  
  
With her strange weapon as a guide, the mediator motions for us to walk up in front of her, far away enough that she could kill us before we could even attack. Her lip curls disdainfully when her brown eyes fall upon Beowulf, but her expression lightens when she glances at me.  
  
Why...?  
  
Her lips are moving...  
  
--Aren't you unique? A new job class from those fool Ivalicians?--  
  
...but my ears aren't registering any sound.  
  
--Someone like you deserves to be on the winning side.--  
  
Her voice is in my head...  
  
--A side with riches innumerable to reward you with.--  
  
...  
  
--Join me, and I'll make sure you are justly rewarded.--  
  
No.  
  
Dully, I stare at her. Petty little human things like that don't interest me at all.  
  
I have everything I want right here.  
  
Let's do this the difficult way, then, she smiles, pointing the weird thing at me. There are explosions dulling my hearing, things flying at me, and all I can do move away, wincing as a couple of the flying things graze my left arm. I stumble and roll away, landing badly on my newly healed wrist. Aah...!  
  
I look up, watching as Beowulf heads towards me. There is a loud crack from that odd weapon again, and he jerks back as red burst out of the upper part of his left arm...  
  
No...!!  
  
Although he's still standing, his left arm hangs uselessly at his side. Blood drips from the tips of his gloved fingers, first in thin trails, then in rivulets.  
  
This promise...I'd rather die than keep this promise!  
  
Right then, the woman sighs, Ivalician men are so weak. All of you can take care of the woman, so GO!  
  
I struggle to my feet, the pain pounding through my arm in a hurried rhythm. I have to help Beowulf...  
  
But now there are dragons, all the different varieties and their cousins surrounding me, blankly glaring at me through hazy reddish eyes. Saliva runs in thick ropes down the sides of their gaping jaws as they snap at random, wings fluttering as they close in on me.  
  
Isn't this overkill? What is that woman thinking?  
  
(_Pa---tic...ki-l...--ma-..._)  
  
I stare at the red dragon that growled at me. I didn't understand a thing it said.  
  
(_V--ce...a-w--s...t---in -t- -e...b--od..._)  
  
The hydra that spoke...why do they all sound so unintelligible to me?  
  
(_Y--...-h-- a--..._)  
  
Maybe if I can focus...I can understand them through this strange haze blocking their words.  
  
(_Ch----in-...w--t -s...y--r..._)  
  
This mediator ruined them...but I can help...  
  
(_Th-s fe--ing...a--a..._)  
  
Hurts, but just a little more...  
  
(_Are yo-...hel-in- us?_)  
  
This pain in my head...I can work through it...I need...  
  
(_Why?_)  
  
A jagged bolt of agony rips through my head, and I feel a warm wetness splash down from my nose as I crumple to the ground. There's pain coursing through my head, through my arms...  
  
If it weren't for those two different pains, I don't think I'd feel like I exist.  
  
Sound. A woman screaming in fury. Metal against metal. The splatter of liquid as it hits the ground. Heavy, steady breathing.  
  
Sight. Legs wrapped in leathery scales of blue and red and amber and green.  
  
Touch. Hard, comforting solidness of the ground beneath me. Liquid running down over my lips.  
  
Smell. I try to inhale, but the odd liquid rushes up my nose. I exhale quickly, feeling the thick liquid escape my nose and splatter onto the ground.  
  
Taste. Metal.  
  
Metal?  
  
Blood?  
  
Ah, I see. That would be the liquid running from my nostrils. Ew. I don't have a problem with seeing a monster's blood, but I do have one with my own blood being visible.  
  
(_Are you alive, childling?_)  
  
My head hurts. My arm hurts. I try to sit up, but the pain in my head spikes and I quickly lie back down, are you all better now?  
  
(_We have recovered. You, however, have not._)  
  
I guess I really must look bad for a dragon to comment on it. I'll be fine soon. Please, help Beowulf...he's injured--  
  
(_We owe nothing to the battling humans._)  
  
I struggle to get up, to work past the pain. Tears of frustration pour from my eyes as I try...I can't do anything...I want to...Beowulf...  
  
(_Your mate is in better condition than the human who thought to control us._)  
  
...You could've said that in the first place. You all should go back home, my eyelids drift downward. I feel so drained. Sleep will help...I love to sleep...  
  
(_We have decided to help you._)  
  
With what? Maybe when I wake up, this will all be a dream...  
  
(_With the darkness clouding your mind._)  
  
... What do you know about that?  
  
(_That it has hindered your growth immensely._)  
  
...I don't like that these dragons know so much about me. Even if they are dragons... Why help me, though?  
  
(_Childling, this is our boon. In return for your help, we can lift the darkness that blinds you from your true potential._)  
  
Dragons are an aloof species of monster. Mama always held them to the highest respect, enough to the point that she would often spend weeks at a time visiting the different dens around the hill and talking to them. She expressively forbid any of us to ever hunt a dragon, and we were all more than happy to comply. They're aloof, but they're also dangerous if they're crossed.  
  
--_They are noble creatures, honorable beyond all others_--  
  
I want to find out my forgotten memory.  
  
I want to know about myself.  
  
...I just want to finally be complete again.  
  
Thank you for your kindness, I murmur.  
  
There is warmth. I'm sinking into warmth.  
  
A red warmth.  
  
It feels like sleep...  
  
-------  
  
_Wake up  
Vile people  
Wake up  
A beast who had intelligence  
The sanctuary is sweetly soft  
If you give up your body, it will drown  
_

-End to chapter 19-

Oh my...this is one of the chapters that my mind has been focusing on since the beginning, and it feels so good to finally have it written out. The words just poured out...I really hope that everyone can feel the energy running through this chapter, and I hope it more than makes up for last chapter, which I plan on rewriting soon. Oh, and Merry Christmas!  
  
I'm currently in the process of reading and revising errors in past chapters due to a review I received. Just minor grammatical and spelling errors, so don't worry about any plot' changes.  
  
-About 20 people will notice that the full title of this chapter has changed. This title makes more sense in the context of the chapter.  
  
-The lyrics are from the song Santi-U', written by Yoko Kanno and sung by Akino Arai. It's quite possibly one of the creepiest songs I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. The first lyrics are the original made-up language, which had a translation' in Japanese. All credit goes to Takayama Miyuki from  
  
-Ambidexterity: One of Dragoner Reis' inherents is Two Hands.  
  
-Mediators: I tend to think that mediators have sort of a low telepathic connect' as well as their skill with words. This foreign mediator is probably more easily able to force-connect' with monsters. I'm probably thinking too much about it, but...  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Junketsuna kishi, I now understand. I really wasn't sure which kishi' you were using. I didn't think last chapter was difficult to understand, rather just not melding together very well. There are several great' parts, then a couple good' parts, then I hate everything else. Ah, perfectionism is a horrible mistress...  
Since you pointed out spelling errors (stupid spellchecker!), I'm currently going back and re-reading everything except for chapters 14 and 18, making the appropriate corrections. Thank you very much for pointing that out. I would be very interested in hearing what you have to say about my writing technique. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
  
Hey, Luna. Yep, we're now in the Memory' arc of this story. I'm excited to see how it turns out. Yes, the Fire spell' part of last chapter is due for revision, but the basic point was that Beowulf never told Reis how to cast a specific spell, just how to summon up the magical essence required. Gah, I'll get right to work on it!  
I completely forgot that most high schools have midterms after Christmas and the New Year. I feel old  
Oddly enough, I tend to see Algus as perhaps one of the strongest characters in the game. I mean, he's an ass, but his portrayal as a person with the nobility mindset is very strong...which makes him all the more despicable. That and I read Cold' by DK  
  
toastyann, congratulations! You've written the longest review for any of my works so far! First of all, I'm flattered that you would look to WHW to get your creative juices flowing. Don't worry, I understand the difference between plagiarism' and inspiration'. I'm just happy you read the note!  
Communication problems are the most common bump in the road for most relationships, and dealing with them can strengthen a relationship, as in Beowulf and Reis' case. Actually, I find it a little odd that you say that Beowulf took it so calmly', mainly because I'm not sure which chapter you're referring to. If you mean 17, though, then I would say that wallowing in guilt' and calmly' are two different things entirely. Is that the chapter you're talking about?  
Ah, romance. Is anyone truly versed in the ways of the heart? ;  
You really do know your astrological signs. While Reis is actually a Pisces--one who now owns the Aquarius stone--I am a Taurus. I'm sincerely trying not to have my personality entangle with Reis', but with the first-person POV and the fact that I've built up her personality from practically scratch...sorry. What Taurean characteristics does she have?  
A dragoner, according to the game: Has a human appearance, but is a dragon'. Interpretations seem to run from mostly human, except for her dragon attacks' to mostly dragon, including a loss of vocal capability'. She has all the breath attacks, as well as some for inviting, healing and boosting up dragons, hydras, hyudras and tiamats. And I did read both fics; I didn't care for Mind of a Woman (read one too many RK romantic comedies), but I loved Last Chance at Glory. Until next time!  
  
Mavina, where have you been? I was worried I'm very happy to see you back, and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!  
  
Thank you for reading! If you have any questions or comments, I'd love to hear them!  
  
Chapter 20: Me and the True Me (_Salty Rage Refrain_): Do you mean to tell me that I'm...I'm defective?


	21. 20: Me and the True Me

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 20: Me and the True Me (_Salty Rage Refrain_)  
  
_A dark room.  
  
My footsteps echo as I walk aimlessly about.  
  
A bright candle.  
  
My fingerprints form in the wax as I pick up the candle.  
  
A lit room.  
  
My eyes close as the candlelight flares, melting the darkness around me.  
  
A young girl.  
  
H'llo. What's your name?  
  
Hm? I am...I am... My name is Reis. What's yours?  
  
The girl, who has long blond hair and large light brown eyes, smiles widely at me, That's my name too! That must mean that you're me and I'm you!  
  
I smile. Is that a good thing?  
  
She--me--Reis...whoever looks at me curiously. Maybe it means that I'm not alone anymore.  
  
  
  
Nodding solemnly, she holds herself, sadness dulling her eyes. There used to be others here. So many others. But I couldn't talk to them, because I was sealed. They never cared, though...and I watched as they all began to disappear, she glances up at me, and now that I'm not sealed anymore, I'm all alone.  
  
I'm sorry, I frown, looking around the pure white room, maybe we can find them, and then you won't be alone. Where do you think they've gone?  
  
She points at me. They've returned into you. Except for me, everyone's found their purpose, their place inside of you.  
  
Oh. Then I'll stay with you, if you like. I've got plenty of time...  
  
But you can't, a grim, set line forms on her face, that's not good either, suddenly, a smile appears like the sun breaking through storm clouds, but you can visit me again!  
  
Casually, I nod at her suggestion. Okay. I'll be looking forward to it.  
  
She grins, this sort-of child form of me, and I feel like I--_  
  
---  
  
How could you have let her come with you?  
  
Nn...  
  
Miss Dular convinced me that she could lead me to the culprit responsible for the attack...  
  
Head...hurts...  
  
And because you and your knights are so ineffectual, you nearly got one of the head catalogers of Murond killed!  
  
Stop yelling...  
  
Do you think yelling at me now is going to do any good? And sometime soon you'll have to tell me who exactly let Miss Dular leave the church that she lives in. Pause. Can you tell me how she's doing?  
  
Beowulf...Verden?  
  
I've healed all the wounds she received, including the re-broken wrist and the multiple grazes from bullets along her left arm. I can't help but wonder if she would've received all those injuries had someone adequately protected her.  
  
Better me than someone else.  
  
Then, what about her nose? She was bleeding pretty badly when I got to her.  
  
I don't know. I didn't feel an injury there.  
  
Slowly, I open my eyes. White ceiling with cracks. Is this my room? Turning my head to the right, I see someone standing at the foot of my bed, arms crossed and facing the closed door. White mage...hood's covering most of her face. My throat feels dry. Did they say there's something wrong with my nose? I wiggle it once, twice...feels fine to me. Gingerly moving my fingers around, I notice there seems to be some cloth wrapped along my right hand.  
  
Could you tell me how my knights are doing? I can't find them with the layout of this church.  
  
However, you can instantly find the white mage quarters.  
  
It's fairly easy, considering you're here.  
  
I have a reason to be here, unlike you. It'd be more helpful to the town if you started collecting damage estimates, as well as a reason why the capital of a Church-owned region happened to be so poorly defended.  
  
I try to sit up...nhn...it feels like the bells on the church are in my head...but I want to talk to Beowulf. my throat scratches together, distorting his name, but other than that I don't sound _that_ bad.  
  
How I feel is another story.  
  
The white mage looks over at me. Oh, it's Scarlet. She looks haggard. Oh, you're awake now, her eyebrows scrunch together, did you just call Sir Kadmus by his first name?  
  
...Oh, no.  
  
A delicately arched eyebrow rises as her eyes settle on my face. ...You don't have to look so frightened. I'm not that petty, walking up to me, she kneels, almost level with my head,   
  
...Why is she being nice to me? I nod while trying to summon up enough saliva to wet my throat.  
  
Scarlet reveals one of her hands from her voluminous sleeves, closing her eyes as she does so. A tiny piece of ice hovers above it, which she catches between her thumb and forefinger. Open your mouth, I do so, and she drops it into my mouth, suck on that while I get your knight.  
  
Doing as she says, I watch her as she rises and walks up to the door, opening it enough for her robed body to pass through, and gently closing it behind her. Priest Buremonda, Head Cataloger Dular is awake.  
  
Thank the Holy Saint. Does she require more healing?  
  
No, your expertise was more than enough. Actually, she is asking for Sir Kadmus. Would you like to see her now, Sir Kadmus?  
  
I...if she's fully conscious. I don't want to bother her. A pause. Is it alright with you, Buremonda?  
  
Only because she wishes it. Scarlet, we need to discuss something about treatments... Their voices trail off as I hear two sets of footsteps tap down the hall, towards the back of the church.  
  
With a barely noticeable creaking of the hinges, the door opens and Beowulf steps inside.  
  
...God.  
  
He smiles at me tiredly as he closes my door, making his way to me in a few short strides. As he crouches down at the side of the bed I can see little lines of stress that weren't there before, marking up his youthful face. He's still in his uniform, but the sleeve of his left arm has been rolled up past his bicep. White cloth bandages, liberally blotted with dried blood, are wrapped over his upper arm. the concern in his eyes is perfectly matched with his modulated tone, how are you feeling?  
  
Swallowing the cool water of the melted ice, I try to smile at him. My lips feel dry. good, my voice sounds stronger, is your arm okay? I...I saw it when--  
  
Don't worry about me, something in his eyes harden, it's you who matters right now. Are you sure you're okay?  
  
Why is he being so...short with me? I said I'm fine. Your arm was healed though, right?  
  
His expression, blank with hard eyes, doesn't change at my question. I thought you'd just sprained your wrist. Why didn't you tell me that you had broken it? The question is piercing, and it hurts hearing it in such a way from him.  
  
Especially because it's from him.  
  
You didn't ask, and I didn't think it was more important than finding the mediator, I whisper, lowering my eyes from his set face to the end of his slightly dirty scarf.  
  
What's wrong, Beowulf?  
  
He sighs. I would've never let you find her if I had known it was more than a sprain. I probably shouldn't have, anyway...  
  
That...that's going too far.  
  
It had been healed, my voice sounds like a harsh whine to my ears as I look up at him. I can't hold back that hurt from showing on my face...it feels wrong to, Beowulf, why are you being so  
  
_mean_  
  
hard on me? I'm really alright...  
  
He looks taken aback, eyes widening before he closes them. Sorry, Reis, reaching out with his right hand, he gently touches my face, his own face visibly softening as I lean into his hand, I'm just really stressed right now, what with the damages and such. A third of the knights are being treated for critical injuries, and then you... his fingers sink into my hair as his eyes seem to dull, even though it's bright in my room.  
  
And something else...? And Verden too, right? His face darkens at the name, and I wince inwardly at the sudden change, I'm sorry.  
  
Don't say that, and although he's smiling at me, there's something black writhing in his normally kind eyes, I guess it's the fact that he's right that's getting to me.  
  
Right'...?  
  
--_I can't help but wonder if she would've come up with all those injuries had someone adequately protected her_--  
  
How could he be right about that when my most major injury was self-inflicted? What do you mean by that?  
  
He inhales deeply through his nose. I couldn't protect you, his eyes narrow, you're going around saving my men from behemoths, facing down mediators, and the dragons... shaking his head, he closes his eyes, when the dragons started moving away from you, I saw you on the ground with all that blood around your head, and I thought...  
  
Sounds familiar, but I can't...I don't know what he's talking about.  
  
I raise my left arm from under the blanket covering me. It feels a little numb, but that's fine. Turning my body more to the right, I reach out and touch his face, smiling as he opens his eyes and looks at me. There's not even a hint of a smile in his eyes; they're just two dark red orbs with a sheen of pain and...something deeper that I don't know, I don't understand.  
  
It's all my fault, I know. But I just wanted...I just wanted him to depend on me too.  
  
It's disturbing, but...I'd rather he was worried about me because I tried to help, rather than me just sitting in my room or in the nave and worrying about him. I would've hated myself if I didn't do anything and...there are so many reasons why I had to help.  
  
But, I'm still sorry for worrying him like this.  
  
...Beautiful Reis...even like this, you look gorgeous, he leans in slightly, a bit of his natural confidence flickering in his eyes, though, this isn't how I want to remember you while I'm gone.  
  
Gone'...?   
  
I'm planning on going to Zaland tomorrow, his jawline is set, I don't know how they could let someone as suspicious-looking as that mediator pass through. Fort City'...some fortification, he smiles at me, though it looks pained, I should be back in a couple of days.  
  
Well, what can I do? He had his job long before he met me, but...ah, I'm being selfish. Please be careful... speaking of which, what happened to the mediator?  
  
Something in his pained expression flinches and deepens. ...You know, it's been so many years since I was involved in the war that...I'd forgotten that sometimes there is no choice.  
  
...Oh. I see, and I do, I really do.  
  
--_Hm...but you know, animals and humans are different_--  
  
Not really.  
  
I should go soon, before Buremonda gets even more suspicious, he leans in, eyes closing, take care of yourself, Reis.  
  
You need to take care of yourself too, I murmur, unwilling to say more as his lips press against mine so softly, so gently that it feels like he's trying not to break me. Bringing my hand up to the back of his head, fingers running through his hair, I slowly move my lips against his. He responds easily, if not eagerly, drawing out the kiss while his fingers lightly stroke my hairline.  
  
To me, Beowulf is a very tender and kind person. To his knights he can be friendly and aloof, although I've noticed that recently he's been fairly guarded around Chiroseau. Judging from what I heard earlier, it seems like he's lost a lot of patience with Verden.  
  
He can be so many things to so many people, but I think he's his most truthful self around me.  
  
This kiss, sweet and gentle, is just an extension of that.  
  
I wonder what I show him with my side of the kiss?  
  
After too short of a time, he pulls away, his breath dancing along my lips as he exhales. Affectionately, he runs his hand through my hair. Get plenty of rest, okay? I'll visit you as soon as I get back, easily disentangling his hand, he reaches up and grasps my hand, which is once again touching his cheek.  
  
Be careful going up the hill, our eyes meet. I hope he can see the seriousness in my gaze, I'm sure the monsters will be very sensitive about seeing another human after what happened...today?  
  
Yeah, it's only five, he murmurs, lightly stroking my hand. I want to hug him, to have him hold me, but I suspect that his arm's bothering him just as much as my wrist is. It's strange, but I'm happy to share that experience with him. It's like we're more than just two people who touch and talk; we can also fight together to protect each other, even to the point of injury.  
  
I don't think that's something he can readily admit, but it's there, deep within his eyes.  
  
Gently, he lowers my hand onto the bed, smiles almost normally at me, and leaves without a word.  
  
No goodbye'.  
  
Good.  
  
I bring my hand up to my chest, pressing it against my heart. Closing my eyes, I smile as I sink into sleep.  
  
---  
  
_A crowded restaurant at lunchtime. It was completely full inside, but the sun is high in the sky, and it feels like a blessing to have the warmth on my skin as I sit at an outside table. Because I only feel the weather mildly no matter the temperature, it's amusing to see so many people walk around, desperately fanning themselves as they perform their daily chores.  
  
Across from me sits the younger me, the not-really-a-child-Reis. Her hair is pinned up nicely with only the strands of hair on either side of her face hanging loose. I've noticed her hair is longer than mine, as well as a lighter shade of blond. She's busy slurping away at her meal of rice and chocobo soup. I occupy myself with my chocobo and Selseta salad, relishing the simple but unique flavor of the plants.  
  
Do you like the atmosphere? I look up at her when her voice, an octave higher than my own, asks the sudden question.  
  
I smile at her. It's really wonderful. Beowulf and I often go to restaurants, but--  
  
You'd like to cook for him, because deep down you're thinking about your future with him, she finishes. It's odd, but I don't feel surprised that she knows that. She is me, after all, but you know the concept of marriage is different between hunters and the rest of Ivalice, right?  
  
Stabbing at a stray leaf, I nod. I suppose, but that's fine with me.  
  
Wouldn't you rather like to become a hunter's wife anyway? She questions, sipping from her spoon, That's what you were raised to do.  
  
Sure, but maybe I can incorporate my lessons with whatever a knight's wife should be, I raise my fork and chew on a leaf saturated with dressing, although I hate to admit it, I'm not really more of a hunter than I am a cataloger.  
  
She makes an appreciative noise while slurping down more of her soup. So then, what are you?  
  
I pause from poking at a piece of chocobo. I'm Reis.  
  
That's who I've always been.  
  
she sets down her spoon into her bowl, and do you know who I am?  
  
I shrug. You're Reis too. This whole place is Reis, I smile at her, I'm just happy to spend some time with you. I'm a bit lonely right now.  
  
Because he left, not-really-a-child-Reis sighs while picking up her spoon, in the end, we're always alone. You couldn't stand it the last time, so why is the day so calm now?  
  
Because I like nice, sunny days. Out of all the different kinds of days I've seen, I like sunny days the most, picking at some Selseta and chocobo, I place it in my mouth and smile, he has to protect everyone, not just me. That's why he's gone.  
  
Shaking her head now, she looks out at the people milling about. The first time we were left alone, you shrunk into yourself. The second time we were left alone, you sank into a fantasy that you consciously held onto as long as possible. Even if I'm you, I don't understand why you're so calm about being left alone again.  
  
I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. I guess that's something that only I know.  
  
What is it? She stares at me with obvious interest, and I spontaneously laugh.  
  
Whatever it is, I'm thankful for it, I look over at her nearly empty bowl, would you like some of my salad?  
  
She shakes her head. No, thank you. Anyway, it's just a figment of our imagination.  
  
Nodding, I go back to my half-empty bowl. Yes, but it still tastes good.  
  
You really do have a strong imagination, she leans back in her chair, stretching contentedly, I'll see you soon, okay?  
  
I smile. This is so rela--_  
  
---  
  
Light.  
  
Groggily, I open my eyes, wincing as the light invades my precious eyesight. I don't know why, but I feel really refreshed. Since it's morning, and I went to bed at five or so yesterday afternoon, I guess there's a good reason why. Stretching out my body, I grit my teeth as my feet hit the footboard. My bed in Murond was a lot longer than this one is, and I keep forgetting that I don't have that bed anymore.  
  
I wonder if I'm all healed up now? Moving my right hand...ow. Guess not. However, it seems that the wounds on my left arm are completely healed. I try to sit up, but the blood pulses heavily in my head...not a good thing.  
  
Well, I guess I can always sleep in some more...how I love to sleep...  
  
knoknoknok  
  
I smile. A visitor is always good, too. Come in!  
  
I don't know why, but I feel so excited. A good mood is hard to come by if Beowulf's not around.  
  
The door opens, and Scarlet enters.  
  
Ah...well, maybe her visit won't be so bad either. Good morning, Miss Scarlet, I sounds happy, and her neutral expression seems to lighten somewhat.  
  
Good morning, she says as she closes my door, walking over to me, how are you feeling today?  
  
...? She seems nicer than usual. I feel fine.  
  
She nods, placing her hands on her hips. I'm here to check up on how you're doing. Priest Buremonda was quite adamant that you become one hundred percent okay before going back to work. Sit up.  
  
...My head hurts when I sit up, it's not something I wanted to admit.  
  
A dark look crosses her face. Well then, obviously you're not feeling fine.  
  
... I'm sorry.  
  
I'm sure, her voice is flat, well, sit up.  
  
hn...I hope I can do this. Scooting up, I struggle into a sitting position. A steady pounding thuds in my head and spots flare in front of me as I sit up, leaning against the wall behind the headboard. My blanket puddles around my lap, revealing the outfit I fought in yesterday. I should take a bath soon, is this okay?  
  
She sighs. It's what you get after lying in bed for an entire day while everyone else has been hard at work...but I suppose you deserved it, well, I don't know about that, I'm going to ask you some questions regarding your personal health. Is that okay? I nod at this. How strange. I thought that white mages just used healing spells, but it seems they're trained for more. Maybe it's a Lionel-specific service?  
  
she runs a hand through her long hair, you're eating healthy, right? No surviving on sweets and stuff?  
  
I shake my head. If that's unhealthy, I better try and curb Beowulf's appetite for that sort of thing. I always did think that his love for sweets was a little much.  
  
Hm. You don't smoke or drink to excess, right?  
  
I shake my head. When I was little and I got sick, Mama would always give me some alcohol so I could sleep better at night. That's about it. I can't stand smoke.  
  
Hm. And your cycle is regular?  
  
I pause. Cycle? As in, moon cycle? What's that?  
  
One of her eyebrows arch at this. What do you mean, what's that'? You know, when was the last time you started bleeding?  
  
...I...I don't try to bleed. In fact, I make sure to avoid it. I keep hearing that I bled during the encounter with the mediator, so...   
  
By the Holy Saint, no, she really looks irritated now, I swear there should be awareness for this sort of thing. I'm asking you when was the last time you bled down there.  
  
... Down there'...? Oh, wait, Peppermint said that term a lot when she was talking to me about sex. I give Scarlet a look that hopefully conveys how odd I think this conversation is. I don't bleed anywhere, not to talk of regularly.  
  
She blinks, giving me a new look...I don't like it. She almost looks worried. So you're saying that you don't have a cycle...at all? I nod at this, But that's not normal...that means... she turns away from me, excuse me, I need to ask one of the others about this...  
  
...? Of course.  
  
Quickly she makes her way out of my room. What was that about? She makes it sound as if...it was normal for this bleeding cycle to occur.  
  
Come to think of it, didn't Peppermint say something about this...?  
  
Ah...I can't remember. That's fine, I'll find out soon enough anyway. My memory's being weird...  
  
Memory...?  
  
Didn't someone say something about my memory?  
  
Coming in, Scarlet announces before opening my door. Glancing at her as she enters, it seems that she looks a bit...disturbed? well...ah...it seems that I was right. You'll...you'll never be able to bear a child.  
  
...   
  
We, ah, don't know why childbirth should be linked to such a thing, her face is nearly kind, nearly understanding, with modern medical studies as they are, we won't find anything new about women for awhile, so--  
  
Do you mean to tell me that I'm...I'm defective? I whisper.  
  
She bows her head, her hood covering the view of her face. You'll be able to function normally. However, as a woman...yes.  
  
Oh. Please leave.  
  
Strangely enough, she looks at me with eyes streaked with...something I don't care to find out right now. She nods once, then turns and leaves my room. As soon as she closes my door, I scoot up so that I can lay back and look up at the ceiling.  
  
Children...I always figured that I'd have children someday. I'm really fond of children. As a woman, that's only natural.  
  
Does this mean I'm unnatural?  
  
What was any of my training for, then? I'll never be a hunter, I'll never be a mother...  
  
Oh God.  
  
I turn over on my side, facing my bright and cheery window. Slowly I curl up so that my knees are brought up to my chest, closing my eyes afterward.  
  
I'll never be like Mama, no matter how much I try.  
  
Sorry, Izlude...  
  
---  
  
_There is a large tree next to a small river. It's strong, with lots of branches spread out in serene protection of anything that should sit beside it and keep it company. It's a kind tree, and I sit below it, leaning my back against the trunk and watch the river run.  
  
It's a cloudy day.  
  
I'm surprised you're so calm, especially with the news you just received, not-really-a-child Reis says while sitting next to me, normally you'd be brooding and pitying yourself awake right now.  
  
I nod once, keeping my eyes on the flowing water. I have to admit that I'm really not happy with myself right now. But, I pat the tree trunk lovingly, turning to smile at her, I'll be fine with this tree right here.  
  
She casts a wary glance at the tree. Odd representation for Beowulf, don't you think?  
  
It's not just Beowulf, I lean into the tree. The bark is rough and scratchy against my face, but not uncomfortable, it's because of everybody that I've become the person I am now.  
  
You don't have that many friends, she points out while looking up at the branches.  
  
I shrug. Maybe someday I will, but that doesn't matter. This tree is still very dependable.  
  
Giving me an odd glance, she looks over at the river. What's that for, then?  
  
It nourishes the tree, smiling slightly at her blank look, I close my eyes, it also makes for very peaceful scenery.  
  
You're really big on aesthetics, aren't you?  
  
I suppose.  
  
When I open my eyes again, I notice that she has a small frown distorting her face. Doesn't this make us a hypocrite? When you're awake, you consciously tell yourself that you don't need to depend on people, but at the same time you're obviously dependent.  
  
...I wonder if the people we call hypocrites' are really just people trying to find themselves, and they look bad because they just happen to contradict themselves a lot, I whisper, even if I am a hypocrite, I'm trying to walk on a set path.  
  
Looking away, she seems uncomfortable. I have something to tell you, but I can't tell you if you're a dependent personality.  
  
with a sigh, I pull away from the tree, I like having people to depend on, but at the same time, I believe that the only person that can truly do things best for me is myself, I nod to myself, when I fought, that was me. Independent enough to make my own choices, yet the reasons behind them were inspired by other people.  
  
Not-really-a-child-Reis is silent at this. Her large eyes are filled with sadness as she looks out at the river. After some time of this, she turns to me. They told me that I should go back to you to complete us. I want to...but I'm afraid. We can't take emotional pain like that...but... sighing, she covers her face with her hands.  
  
I move up to her and wrap my arms around her small frame. You'll do what you think is best, I run my right hand through her hair, but, please know that you can always come to me.  
  
Thank you, her voice is small, I'll...I'll definitely think about that.  
  
When she uncovers her face and looks up at me, I smile. Her face seems to have gained some maturity, and it's nic--_  
  
----  
  
Nighttime.  
  
I'm hungry. I want to take a bath. Up, up...  
  
Dragging myself out of bed is easy enough, but as I stand on the cool floor with waves of dizziness assaulting my head...I feel nauseous. Wow...this can't be good. I kneel down and collect my robe and various items for my bath, then I cautiously make my way to the door. Softly I pad down the hall in my squire dress and ninja tights...I wonder where my boots are? Not like they'd be hard to find in my tiny room...  
  
By the time I reach the baths, I feel almost back in shape. I guess I could go back to work tomorrow. All I've done lately is sleep. I open the door to the female bathhouse. No one's here. What time is it, anyway?  
  
After disrobing, which is a bit difficult with my right hand as it is, and putting my stuff on the bench that goes all around the interior of the room, I sit on a tiny bench and soap up.  
  
--_You'll...you'll never be able to bear a child_--  
  
I lower my hands from my hair, placing them on my lap. I really can't distract myself from this, can I?  
  
--_The way you think...I'm sure you'd be a great mother someday_--  
  
...That would've been nice.  
  
Standing up, I make my way to the spigot on the wall and turn it on. Icy water fills a bucket I kick over underneath the stream of water. After the bucket overflows, I douse myself with the contents, shivering as bumps rise on my skin. Suds run down my body, so I refill the bucket and repeat the process.  
  
--_Little Reis, do you want to know why Mama's so big?_--  
  
I shut off the water, squeezing the excess water out of my hair as I walk to the steaming bath at the back of the room.  
  
--_See, Mama's full of life. Practically bursting with it! And soon, that life inside of me will be brought out and you'll have siblings to enjoy your life with. Isn't that great, Reis?_--  
  
Carefully, I enter the bath, shuddering involuntarily as the heated water surrounds my bumpy skin.  
  
Life...  
  
Somehow, it's my fault, right? Because I did my best at killing off my emotions, just trying to exist' day by day...I probably killed off any chance of life forming inside of me.  
  
I press my hands against my flat stomach.  
  
It's always going to be like that.  
  
That's...that's not fair! Women...women like Beowulf's mother are somehow blessed with children, and they ignore those children in favor of focusing on their own lives. People like that shouldn't be allowed to have children to nurture and raise...  
  
I lower my head, staring into the cloudy water.  
  
But then Beowulf wouldn't be born.  
  
...Hn.  
  
And if Beowulf had been born to a nice mother, chances are that he wouldn't have tried to go to war. And if he hadn't done that, he would've never become proficient in magic, and he would've never gone to Bervenia...and he would've never been invited to Lionel.  
  
I drop my hands from my stomach and watch the ripples form in the water.  
  
God is pretty cruel, isn't he?  
  
A small, bitter smile forms on my face.  
  
I don't want to tell Beowulf this. He...what man would even think of marrying a barren woman? Or even staying with her? That's just not possible in this day and age, no matter how kind he is.  
  
If I had known this before, I don't think I would've promised myself to tell him everything important to me.  
  
I hate this.  
  
Easily I get out of the bath and walk over to the bench with all my things. I slip on my robe and collect my toiletries, exiting the bathhouse.  
  
Maybe it's easier to be a man. Of course, there are different expectations, but...maybe they're easier to handle. There probably aren't as many expectations on looks or being something because of my body's natural abilities.  
  
We all just drift into our roles.  
  
I enter my room, kicking a boot underneath my bed as I walk over to my valise. Where's my comb...hm? I pull out the stone that Beowulf gave to me. His family heirloom...  
  
Even in the darkness of the night, if I hold it up to the light streaming through my window, I can see its dark blue color. How strange...Beowulf's eyes don't even have a red tint in the night, but I can still see the color of this...this Aquarius stone. My thumb lightly rubs over the two squiggly lines on the pitcher-stone...I wonder what sort of stone this is?  
  
_Have faith._  
  
Beowulf wouldn't have given me his family heirloom if he didn't have faith in me, if he didn't care about me.  
  
...That's true, isn't it?  
  
I hold it against my chest. Such a pretty stone...  
  
_Everything will turn out for the best._  
  
Well, I guess...yes, everything will be alright in the end.  
  
This stone...holding it makes me feel better. A shame that Beowulf was using it as a paperweight. I place it gently in my valise and go back to looking for my comb. I'll go to the kitchen and find some bread or something, and then back to sleep.  
  
No matter what happens, I'll be fine.  
  
---  
  
_A bright room.  
  
I walk forward, resolute with each step I take.  
  
A wooden door.  
  
I reach out and pull the door open.  
  
Home.  
  
Not-really-a-child-Reis sits at the table next to the tiny kitchen where I learned the basics to cooking. She smiles and gestures to the chair adjacent to her place. Nodding in reply, I walk over to the proffered seat, daintily sitting down. This will be our last meeting.  
  
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, I tilt my head, looking her straight in the eye.  
  
You're scared, but you're willing to tell him about our deficiency, her smile is sad, we could've never done that before.  
  
A small smile nudges my lips. I did promise. Whatever happens...I have no regrets.  
  
No more regrets, she nods, I'm scared too, but I'll be strong.  
  
We'll be strong together, I reach out to her, my lost memory.  
  
Her smile is like a beacon of sadness calling out to me. Even though you can't remember what the dragons promised in the conscious world, you still want me?  
  
Slowly I nod. It's been eight years. Whatever you have to reveal to me, it's still going to be in the past. There's nothing I can do to change that, but I still need to know, my eyes take in her half-frightened, half-hopeful expression, I won't truly understand myself until I know.  
  
And you'll tell Beowulf, because we know he's been wondering about that for a long time, her fingers, smaller than mine, tap along the edge of the table, I want to protect us and not find my own place, but... she grins up at me, eyes tearing up, that's a bad sort of protection.  
  
As I smile at her, as tears run down her slightly childish face, I can't help but wonder if this is really the best way. But then she places her hand in mine, and I feel warm because I'm in the comfort of my home and I'm compl--_  
  
---  
  
I jerk up into a sitting position, damp hair scattering over my shoulders as  
  
--(Childling, this is our boon. In return for your help, we can lift the darkness that blinds you from your true potential.)--  
  
my mind is being filled with images  
  
--(All we can do is unseal the sealed. It's you who has the final choice to understand your true self.)--  
  
both from the recent past and  
  
--_Reis darling, could you get some water from the well?_--  
  
from the far past and  
  
--_So, there's humans living on this cursed hill?_--  
  
I don't...I don't...  
  
--_Run...ev'ryone..._--  
  
Oh God.  
  
No.  
  
No!  
  
Slowly I raise my hands to my face, feeling them tremble over my cheeks and mouth.  
  
What...what is this...?  
  
-----  
  
--knoknok--  
  
Come in, I call softly. My fingers are busy sewing something...I'm not sure what I'm making, but I've been working at it since early morning. Verden walks in, and I smile at him, good morning, Verden.  
  
Good morning, Reis, he stands a respectable distance away from my bed, which is something I appreciate right now, you seem to be looking a lot better.  
  
Placing down my handicraft, I look up at him. Thanks to you. Did you want me to return to work today?  
  
He shakes his hand, smoothing out the front of his everyday priest robe. I just wanted to see how you were feeling. Work is a secondary issue at this point, his voice, his bearing is completely serene, and I appreciate that too.  
  
I need peace right now.  
  
To tell you the truth, I need to ask you for a favor, my lips move listlessly against my better judgment.  
  
I need closure even more.  
  
Light blue eyes shine with kindness. I will endeavor to grant you your heart's desire.  
  
I wonder if he really would, or if he's just saying that. I would like to travel to Bariaus Hill sometime within the next few days.  
  
Excuse me? His brow furrows in slight confusion.  
  
...I don't know if it's in my records, but I was born on Bariaus Hill, my voice nearly cracks. I can't help the rolling feelings in me from showing up on my face, and it's been almost exactly eight years since I've seen my home.  
  
...I see, a sigh escapes his lips. He looks like he's putting more effort into his tranquility, which is offsetting his entire expression, then, I will contact the knights and set up an escort for you... his eyes narrow, preferably one that can protect you.  
  
Now it's me who's working on keeping a fairly neutral facial expression. I thank you for your kindness, Verden.  
  
He smiles, and I don't know why, but it's almost painful to look at. My kindness is all I have to offer you.  
  
-----  
  
Struggling just a bit, I manage to fit my dress over my head and arms. Whew, and in the right holes too. I pull down the end of the dress until everything looks nice and smooth. My poofy, dark blue cloud pants fit nicely with my sleeveless white dress. Now, where's my black boots...  
  
--knoknoknok--  
  
I call out, digging underneath my bed for my boots...one...where's the other...ah, here it is. Managing to extricate myself from my bed, I hastily slip my feet into my boots and adjust my pants over them, all while slowly moving towards the door.  
  
Verden kept his promise, telling me the next day that he set up the trip for the end of the week, which also marks a complete week since Ajora's birthday. Beowulf should be back by now, hopefully. I have a feeling that Verden will make sure that Beowulf won't escort me, but I keep my hope right up until I reach my door and pull it open. No...my height, brown hair and green eyes. Good morning, Sir Riola.  
  
He smiles at me. Good morning, Miss Dular. Are you ready to leave?  
  
Ah...I wish I was wrong about the pessimistic stuff more often. stepping out of my room, I close the door behind me. Riola seems to be one of the knights that didn't suffer too much in the way of injuries, judging by the easy way he's moving, thank you for escorting me. I'm sure you don't really want to face Bariaus Hill monsters again.  
  
It's not just me, though. Sir Chiroseau will be forming our party as well, oh, it'd be great to see Chiroseau again. We start walking down the hall to the front of the church, besides, I've no doubt in my mind that you can easily handle whatever comes our way, pushing his bangs away from his face, he smiles at me, I saw the behemoth that you took down. That was the cleanest kill that day.  
  
It wasn't all that clean. It was the least I could do. How is Sir Mikner?  
  
Riola begins to chuckle. Very alive. He won't stop telling us how you saved him, there is nothing but warmth in his eyes as he looks at me, I really have to thank you for that. He's one of my closest friends. Alia appreciates it too.  
  
I'm happy to hear that, and in some ways, I really am.  
  
I'm happy that I'm still somewhat useful, even if my overall potential isn't...isn't really all that good.  
  
Hn.  
  
Perhaps I'm sending off bad feelings, which would explain why Riola just nods at my words and doesn't say anything else as we exit the church and walk to the north end of the town. There are numerous men about the town, fixing up various buildings. Some of them I recognize as knights I've seen at the barracks during my visits to see Beowulf.  
  
As we approach the north gate I can see Chiroseau there, holding the reins to three yellow chocobos. Good morning, Miss Reis! He calls out, moving up to meet us. The chocobos complacently follow him. I bow once we all meet each other.  
  
Good morning, Sir Chiroseau, I smile sheepishly as he pats my head, a fatherly smile faintly glowing on his face, how have you been?  
  
I've been fine, child, he moves his hand away, only to have it return with one of the reins for a chocobo from his other hand, I've been wondering the same for you ever since I heard about your exploits on the Holy Saint's birthday.  
  
Well, that is... I'm doing fine, smiling, I take the reins from his outstretched hand and gently pull the chocobo up to me. Looking at the other two men as they mount the giant birds, I can't help but wonder something, did you both volunteer to escort me?  
  
Chiroseau smiles. Buremonda specifically picked us because we both attend church on a regular basis.  
  
Ah. That's...that's an interesting way of going about with that. I mount my chocobo, who is very calm and silent.  
  
--(Pathetic)--  
  
That's probably a good thing. I think Beowulf would've been shocked at some of the things that red chocobo had said.  
  
We move out, steadily making our way down the wide path leading to Bariaus Hill. The scenery is nice, if a little more arid than Bariaus Valley...I have no clue why, though. the murmur escapes my lips before I can stop myself, and the other two men look at me curiously, how is Beowulf doing? Has he returned?  
  
The two men, who are both on my right, share a glance. What's that about? He returned yesterday in a relatively bad mood, Riola states gently, well, he was in a good mood, but then Priest Buremonda came around for your escort.  
  
...Somehow, that makes sense. I see.  
  
But you know, child, Chiroseau, who's riding next to me, smiles lopsidedly, Kadmus isn't exactly one to be deterred so easily.  
  
Well, I've noticed that. That's true.  
  
On chocobo, the trip to the foot of Bariaus Hill takes a little under half a day; it looks really close, but appearances can be deceiving, I guess. Beowulf is there as we approach, standing next to his own chocobo. He waves and I wave back, urging my chocobo to hurry. It doesn't, so I arrive with everyone else. Why was I given the slow one?  
  
Somehow, I'm not very surprised he's here.  
  
I could tell him today.  
  
I could.  
  
Good afternoon, Reis, he smiles up at me and for a single moment I want to jump down and hug him tightly. However, I can see Chiroseau grinning out of the corner of my eye, so the urge quickly passes, Chiroseau, Riola, you remember the plan?  
  
Plan...?  
  
We sit out here and wait until you get done with whatever you need to do, and then we'll take Miss Dular back like the good escorts we are, Beowulf nods to Riola's words, please, Miss Dular, take all the time you want.  
  
I think I've taken up enough time as is.  
  
Thank you Sir Riola, Sir Chiroseau, I bow slightly, then I turn to Beowulf, who is settling on his chocobo, we'll be going.  
  
Beowulf and I quickly--not really, considering my chocobo--leave, going along a route I remember that goes around the hill, as well as many of the various monster dens. We don't say anything to each other, especially after we pass a sleeping king behemoth.  
  
Same as always, even after eight years.  
  
Finally we arrive at my destination: a well on the Zaland side of the hill. Dismounting my chocobo, I walk past the old stone well and over to a large tree away from the dusty path up the hill.  
  
Is it safe here? Beowulf says from behind me, walking his own chocobo as well. It's sweet how protective he's being. It's also a little frustrating.  
  
By the time I finish telling him about my complete past, he might stop that.  
  
He might leave me.  
  
Either way...I still have to tell him...right?  
  
It's as safe as it'll get around here, I look back at him and attempt a smile, should I tie up the chocobos?  
  
Don't worry about it, he smiles cheerfully, they probably could use some space to walk around in.  
  
That smile of his...will he still smile at me when I'm done talking?  
  
Please...  
  
Beowulf walks up to me and touches my face with both hands, having let his chocobo go already, concern brewing in his eyes, You're trembling. What's wrong?  
  
This is it.  
  
my voice is tiny to my own ears, let's sit down, and with his confusion clearly marked on his face, he does as I suggest and sits down at the base of the large tree. Our chocobos wander around the grass but are clearly not willing to leave us. Smart chocobos. They obviously can feel the monsters around us and aren't stupid enough to run away and end up becoming a dragon's meal.  
  
However, I am not burdened by those sort of survival instincts.  
  
The grass is slightly damp with morning dew when I sit down next to Beowulf, shoulder to shoulder. With confusion and concern dancing around energetically in his eyes, he puts an arm around me. The confusion only deepens when I don't immediately lean against him.  
  
I don't want to tell him anything that would lessen his opinion of me.  
  
his name is said in a mellow, hollow tone and by his reaction of raising an eyebrow, he's very ready for an explanation, we need to talk.  
  
He looks at me with an open, accepting expression. his voice is calm, with the barest hint of worry.  
  
This nervousness tumbling around in my belly...I wonder if this is how he felt just before he started telling me about his past?  
  
With my heart pounding in an erratic rhythm, I say the eight words I never thought I'd really ever get to say, not to talk of this soon.  
  
I want to tell you about my past.  
  
No matter what he thinks about me afterward, I'm going to respect him enough to let him make his own judgment about me. He deserves that much...he deserves so much more.  
  
But I'm still scared.

-End to chapter 20-

I've always been really fond of the idea of different personas inhabiting ourselves. This has only been exacerbated by one of my best friends buying me Persona 1 and 2 for Christmas. I love Persona 2. By the way, I hope everybody has a happy new year! Don't make any resolutions you can't keep!  
  
- Salty Rage': A perfume and the last item' title, it has a deep yet gentle scent'. It's the common poach from a red dragon.  
  
-Before someone jumps me about Reis' infertility, I'd like to note that the hint for that had already been stated in chapter 12. I've always been a fan of throwaway statements having considerable attention later on.  
  
- Not-really-a-child-Reis' is thirteen in image, but...well, next chapter clarifies the usage of this term.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hehe, Luna, yeah, I definitely thought the story could use something exciting. Battle scenes are fun to write every once in awhile.  
It seems like no one really uses Reis, but she's my main physical force. Hell, all I needed was to have Equip Sword on her and she was already awesome. The only other place to get your full complement of dragons and such is to hit the SMB/ Super Monster Battle on Bariaus Hill. Cid? Never use him ;; Ramza sure likes using his sword, though.  
  
Dude, Mavina, I was seriously worried. I was all lost and sad because I didn't have your commentary. ; About the behemoth scene, I had to practice how Reis held a sword with one of my katana, but it's lighter than a European knight sword', so I don't know how realistic the scene came off as.  
In Governor Schwarznegger news: He's trying to cut funds from education, services for handicapped people and other places in order to get rid of the budget. No one seems very happy about that.  
  
Hello, junketsuna kishi! After such an exciting chapter, we have introspection chapter! However, I will happily admit that this story doesn't really have a plot'. They're a bit overrated to me. ; I'm happy that you haven't seen anything problematic in my writing so far, and I really hope it continues, but please feel free to tell me if something looks weird. It's a bit intimidating that there are so many people willing to point out my mistakes to me, but it also makes me happy...  
  
Thank you for reading! If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to tell me!  
  
Chapter 21: The Cloistered Cataloger, Reis Dular: A quiet, imaginative child, Reis Dular had high expectations placed on her since the day she made her first kill. Since then, she was swept up in a whirlwind of training, from hunting to cooking to childcare. She was a prodigy. The perfect hunter. The perfect wife.  
  
Just like her mother.' 


	22. 21: The Cloistered Cataloger, Reis Dular

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 21: The Cloistered Cataloger, Reis Dular  
  
(March of Pantora 28)  
  
  
  
It was a calm, cloudy day in the Lionel region. With the sky being as it was as well as the scent of the approaching rain, the monsters of Bariaus Hill reacted in the same way they had for generations past. They took shelter in the numerous dens scattered throughout the chunk of land that jutted up from the earth, and when the dens were full the rest were left to find overhanging cliffs to stay under. Often the monsters would fight each other for temporary shelter; indeed, the only time they did not was when a human dared to intrude in their habitat.  
  
I'm t-wying, Mama.  
  
Because of the varied and dangerous species of monsters that made the legendary hill their home, many people feared traveling through the unassuming hunk of land. A popular theory of the monster population, as related by followers of the Glabados religion, was that the monsters inhabited the holy place--Saint Ajora's first follower's execution site--so that it would not be desecrated by humans. However, in the centuries past many aspiring adventurers had journeyed to Lionel to find out just what made the hill so special, often assuming enough intelligence to travel within groups. Some of them had even set up businesses there, offering to protect those from southern Lionel who wanted to travel through the hill to the rest of Ivalice and vice-versa. As for the less fortunate...  
  
I know you are, but do you really want to do this?  
  
Their bones, stripped clean of flesh and bleached white by the sun, had served as a prominent reminder as to why Bariaus Hill was not a place to take lightly.  
  
  
  
Due to the war, the allure of danger that the hill presented was overshadowed by the battlefields that were scattered throughout northern Ivalice. In fact, there was even one in Lionel, the location's name now being a misnomer: Zigolis Lake. Men and women alike will always be drawn to the most dangerous option presented; because of this desire, Bariaus Hill was now almost devoid of humans.  
  
Just tell me when you're ready.  
  
The exception came in the form of a young couple, both emigrants to Lionel, and their only child, a girl who had recently turned two. Just the average family, with the large bulge in the woman's stomach signifying just how comfortable they felt with raising children in such an environment.  
  
Yes, Mama.  
  
It was the perfect environment for a family of hunters, after all.  
  
Currently the young family was out hunting, as the upcoming rain provided a rare opportunity to catch a monster unaware as it searched for shelter. The hunting ground wasn't all that far from the family's cabin, nestled comfortably in cliffs around the second level of the hill. On the ground level, there was a place along the eastern side overrun with unusually dense brush, providing a hiding place completed by the cliff walls. There was enough space for a medium-sized person to sit behind the brush. If one tried hard enough, that medium-sized person could be joined by a child.  
  
Rela Dular sat within this enclosure, her head bent down so that it would not be visible over the top of the small bushes. Long golden hair flowed from the crown of her head down to the small of her back, drifting over both her very rounded stomach and the child that clung to what was available of her lap. She held a hunting crossbow with both hands, with one of her hands holding the trigger with her index finger at the ready while the other one properly balanced the weapon. Her daughter, the diminutive Reis, also had her hands on the crossbow, chubby little fingers delicately clinging around her mother's finger on the trigger of the well-oiled bow. Her amber eyes, already in the process of darkening slightly to a light sepia, piercingly looked through the thin leaves at their owner's prey.  
  
A red panther, shuffling around on paws capable of overpowering an adult male, warily glared at its own prey. It was facing one such person, the spiky-haired blond named Arin Dular. He smiled as he held his weapon of choice, a long sword carefully sharpened before each hunting trip. The blade was sharp enough to cleanly slice through meat and bone with relative ease, and its owner was more than capable of starting such an act. But the sword wasn't usually the main cause of death to the couple's prey, and he wasn't the hunter who normally took down the monsters.  
  
He was just a decoy.  
  
Eyes that were almost always closed in peaceful slumber were now hard and focused as the red panther backed away from the young man. While the large cat had moved in front of the bow many a time before, it didn't feel like the perfect shot to the child. Her mother had explained to her in low whispers that the first bolt should be the last one used, and Reis wasn't sure how to do that. Rela, an enigmatic smile making her look older than she really was, hadn't explained any further.  
  
The red panther crouched down, upper body almost to the ground, haunches up and its tail swishing furiously. The ears were up, uncovering the darkness inside.  
  
_Is this what Mama meant?_  
  
The child whispered urgently, and in an instant mother and daughter pulled the trigger.  
  
A silver-colored bolt sprang from the crossbow with barely a twang, its trajectory straight and narrow. With an almost eerie silence, it plunged through the opening of the ear, neatly coming out the other ear and embedding itself into the trunk of a innocent tree. A surprised mewling was the feline's only response as it fell over, blood pooling underneath its head.  
  
Hmm...Rela, are you okay? Her concerned husband asked as he walked over to the bush, sheathing his sword into the scabbard at his hip, It was a perfect shot like usual, but you usually don't wait that long.  
  
That's because I had help, uncomfortably, the pregnant woman stood up from the bushes, stretching upwards with her empty crossbow in her right hand. She patted her daughter on the head with her other hand, little Reis here's got a good eye.  
  
Arin looked fairly disbelieving as he helped his wife over the bushes, then picked up the quiet two-year-old, letting her sit up in his arms. Reis, who quickly clung to her father, shyly looked up at him with large eyes as he worked his mouth to form the appropriate question to her. So, you were helping your mama, little Reis?  
  
Solemnly, she nodded. Uh-huh. Did W-eis do good?  
  
Reis did an excellent job, her father replied, smiling as he lightly pinched her cheek. She smiled widely, then pouted as he put her back down, go follow your mama, okay? Papa's got to carry the kill, the little girl did as she was told, holding up her hand for her mother to grasp. Before crouching down to haul the monster onto his shoulders, Arin ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at his waiting wife and daughter, Rela, so soon? The question sounded almost rhetorical.  
  
The young woman smiled, adjusting her hold on Reis' hand as well as the one she had on her crossbow. Sooner if I could, dear.  
  
Her husband's light brown eyes flickered with hesitation before simply shrugging and crouching down to the kill.  
  
-----  
  
When Beowulf usually stares at me, it's usually partnered with a smile and a comment or three about how I look, or how happy he is to see me.  
  
I wish I could say it's the same for this time as well.  
  
a small frown appears on his face as he pauses for a second, although it doesn't look like it's aimed at me, I remember something...you said once that the first death you witnessed was when you were two, his memory's not so bad. I nod, and his light eyebrows scrunch together slightly.  
  
...That's not the best response.  
  
Is it so unbelievable? I guess it's one thing to live through that moment, and another thing entirely to hear about it. A vague sense of dread pools in my stomach as he simply raises an eyebrow at my question.  
  
If he's reacting like this now...I don't want to keep talking. Well, I already don't, but...  
  
That's different, his voice is quiet, brandy eyes not showing any real disbelief. In fact, now he just looks curious, why that young?  
  
What does he mean by that?   
  
Ah...yeah, young, judging by the strange expression twisting his face, we're nowhere near the same page here. Somehow, I doubt we're even in the same book, when I was two, I was just wandering around and eating lots of candy.  
  
... You still eat lots of candy.  
  
With a grin, he raises his hand from my shoulder and lets his fingers trickle down the hair framing my face, his thumb trailing along the side of my face. True, but I meant that you were young, so why not enjoy your childhood?  
  
Childhood'? For some reason, the word makes me uncomfortable. It couldn't be helped. I am female, after all.  
  
Yes, I've noticed, but what does that have to do with anything? Beowulf's quizzical expression is so adorable that I can't help but smile. A gentle warmth spreads through me, replacing the torrid tossing in my stomach. He really seems interested about my life prior to the Church.  
  
He really cares.  
  
That'll probably change soon.  
  
Because I was the firstborn and a girl, I had to learn how to help Mama in all areas, especially since my brothers were born in May of that year, the eighth, to be exact. I bring up one of my hands from my lap, counting off with my fingers, I needed to learn everything Mama could teach me about hunting, cooking, sewing, childcare, cleaning, and other home-related things before I turned fifteen.  
  
He smiles, though he looks a bit confused. Why fifteen?  
  
I smile. There always seems to be another question. It doesn't seem like he knows that a hunter's domestic life is very similar from a peasant's, although...he probably wouldn't know anything about peasants, either. Because I was to be taken to Mama's old home to find a suitable husband.  
  
...Now that I think about it, that probably wasn't the best way to say that.  
  
Since I met Beowulf back in April, I've really learned a lot about him. Not just his history or his likes and dislikes, but about what his various facial expressions show about his current emotions, especially when it comes to his eyes. He's really very open when it comes to his eyes, but on the whole he's fairly easy to read at all times. It's as if he's completely willing to be open to me, which really makes me want to open up to him in the same way. Of course, lately he's been exhibiting so many new and different reactions that I feel as if I'm learning about him all over again.  
  
I don't think that I could ever finish learning about him. At least, I hope not.  
  
On the surface, he doesn't seem so changed from his normal self. His face is a bit more blank than usual, and his lips usually aren't in a straight line like that, but he doesn't look that much more different. It's his eyes, which seem to be rapidly and randomly cycling through so many different emotions in a single moment...that's how I know how he's really feeling, but I can't...I don't understand...?  
  
His voice is soft.  
  
I nod. Getting married at a young age is good for building bonds of trust, which are crucial in hunting. For obvious reasons, no one would play decoy for a partner they couldn't trust.  
  
His eyes are settling on disbelief.  
  
I nod. With young parents, they are better able to go out on the grounds with their children, even after said children become adults themselves. Plus, Mama once told me that younger women are more fertile...  
  
I guess that's a moot point with me.  
  
His hand drops from my face to my shoulder as his eyes firmly stay with disbelief. So, technically you're supposed to be married now, right?  
  
I've...never thought about it that way before. If everything had worked out the way it was supposed to, by now I'd be living a comfortable existence with several children and being a devoted wife and mother.  
  
But I would've never met Beowulf.  
  
How strange.  
  
--_It must've been fate that we met_--  
  
Was such a sacrifice really necessary...was it really worth it?  
  
That is...a difficult question.  
  
Gently, Beowulf touches my face with his other hand, calloused fingers slowly stroking along the bottom of my jaw. Tell me more about your family, a little smile is partnered with his request. His eyes are no longer dark with disbelief, making me feel as if I was more odd than I truly am, but lightened by some sort of secret interest.  
  
It makes me so happy that I'm...I'm interesting to him. At least, so long as it's the good' sort of interest.  
  
But I promised.  
  
-----  
  
(April of Pantora 32)  
  
The sun was at its apex, and even on the mild spring day the monsters preferred to nap in their dens during the noon hour. At the Dular home, there were only four people inside as Arin had left earlier to obtain some goods in Zaland, leaving his wife to watch over the children. It didn't seem as though they needed any actual watching', as they all just sat around and occupied themselves in fairly harmless ways.  
  
The twins Tyrei and Quain Dular, born the same year Reis turned two, were lounging around on the floor, tired out from an impromptu wrestling match. Neither won, as their mother and older sister separated the two before things got out of hand, but they verbally argued as to which identical twin won.  
  
Their older sister Reis Dular sat at the supper table, attempting to create a nice dress for herself, one that wouldn't get in her way as she ran and rolled for her practices in defensive measures with her father. The dark brown dress was, so far, a middling success, with the real loser being her sore fingers from accidentally poking herself with her needle one too many times.  
  
Their mother Rela Dular also sat at the supper table, mostly watching her daughter sew without giving any pointers. However, she was careful to keep an eye on her sons. She was so into her watching, she barely noticed her hunger pangs until her stomach growled. Breaking away from glaring at each other, the twins laughed at the low rumble. As quickly as she could, Reis dropped her partially completed dress onto the table and walked into the space that harbored stove, getting a plate and gathering up some cooling berry cookies left in a pan on top of the cold stove. She daintily walked back to the table, setting the plate of baked goods close to her mother's side of the table.  
  
The young mother smiled at her oh-so-thoughtful daughter. Thank you, Reis darling. Just what I needed.  
  
Tyrei, sitting on the floor with Quain, glared up at Reis. The older of the two, Tyrei's mouth often worked faster than his thoughts. Mama, do you like Reis best?  
  
A small look of surprise fluttered across Rela's attractive face. Why would you ask that?  
  
the four-year-old paused a moment, a look of heavy concentration evident in his stern expression, you always call Reis Reis darling' or something, but you don't say anything with my name.  
  
Not mine too, Quain piped up beside his twin. The quieter of the two, he never really spoke unless he wanted something or was fighting with his brother.  
  
A small smile curved on the young woman's face for a moment, her usual expression of confusion, then she began to laugh. Is that so? That's not very fair, is it? Hmm... she moved off of her chair and joined the brothers on the wooden floor, sitting with her legs beside her, from now on, you're, she tapped Tyrei on the head lightly, wonderful Tyrei', and you're, now she tapped Quain's forehead, my superb Quain'. How's that?  
  
The twins looked at each other with blank expressions as they tried to decipher which one had been given the better name. After a long moment of silence, they seemed to come to a decision as they turned and smiled at Rela. They chirped as one with well-matched voices, reaching out and tightly hugging their beloved mother. She hugged them back, each arm around a child as she kissed their foreheads.  
  
Reis, come over here, Rela craned her neck to the side to look at Reis, who had gone back to her sewing. Obediently, the six-year-old girl put down her cloth and needle and got down from her chair again. She approached her mother, who was contentedly holding each twin on either side of her, long fingers stroking their soft brown hair.  
  
Yes, Mama? the eldest child murmured, large light brown eyes filled with a gentle kindness. Her mother smiled at her daughter's politeness. Neither parent was quite sure of where the young girl gained such a trait, but they felt blessed by it. Quain, as well, took after his older sister in that regard.  
  
Sit down, Mama wants to tell you something important, Reis knelt down in front of Rela, closing her eyes when the physically affectionate mother leaned over to kiss her quiet daughter on the forehead, darling Reis, I want you to know that I won't leave any of my children behind. I want you all to be equally successful. So, the young mother stopped whispering, pulling back to grant Reis with a gentle smile, I want you to help me make sure that happens. Alright?  
  
The eldest child nodded empathetically, long, loose blond hair shifting along her shoulders and back at the motion. Yes, Mama!  
  
To know that her mother depended on her made the young girl just as warm as any hug could.  
  
-----  
  
Wistfully Beowulf smiles, a trace of...something in his brandy eyes. It really sounds as if your mother loved all of you, the arm around my shoulders tenses for a moment before I feel his hand dangle against my bare right arm, that must be nice.  
  
Maybe I shouldn't have brought up that memory.   
  
About what? His face only holds curiosity now, but something like longing dwells in his eyes. We all have different upbringings. And, with such nurturing parents, I can see why you're so kind.  
  
I'm really not sure about that. You're kind too, you know.  
  
He smiles at this. That's something we have in common, then.  
  
Well, I guess so. But I can't compare to his special type of kindness and affection. It's like a gentle breeze on a warm day, the type that caresses one's skin gently, cooling and refreshing.  
  
It's the kind of wind that makes one keep going, because it's proof of a benevolent God.  
  
-----  
  
(August of Pantora 34)  
  
Big sister, I'm hot...  
  
tp...tp...tp  
  
Reis, do something about it.  
  
tp...tp...tp  
  
Big sister,why are you ignoring us...  
  
tp...tp...tp  
  
Hey Quain, maybe Reis is ignoring us because she doesn't love you anymore.  
  
tp...tp...tp  
  
Th-that's not true! Big sister, that's not true, right?  
  
With a large sigh, the eldest Dular child set down the coarse shirt she had been working on onto the tabletop and looked over at her brothers. The identical twins had been lying on the floor in just thinly woven pants, but now the younger twin Quain was up on his knees, staring at Reis with the beginnings of fear edging his amber eyes. Unfortunately, that look was also softened with the wetness that somehow always seemed present in the child's eyes, as he was a gentle type who could be easily brought to tears by his brother. Elder twin Tyrei was still flat against the pine floor, even though he had been warned repeatedly about possible splinters. He had always been more reckless than his brother in that way, as well as more stubborn.  
  
Although they constantly fought, they were inseparable.  
  
Of course it's not true, the eight-year-old rose from her seat at the supper table and walked over to the traumatized-looking boy, crouching just in front of him, I love you very much, and with an innocence that only children can truly master, she smiled and hugged him tightly.  
  
Tyrei, sullen at being left out, closed his eyes and turned his head away. Noticing this, Reis slowly moved away from Quain and shuffled her way over to the pouting six-year-old. she said brightly, poking him in the side. He jerked away and glared up at her, do you want a hug too?  
  
he quickly looked away from her, head propped up with his small hands, why would I want a hug from you--?  
  
The blonde blinked. Because I'm your big sister?  
  
the older twin ruminated on this very important issue for a bit, cutely chewing on his lower lip as he did so. Reluctantly he sat up, looking straight into the sepia-colored eyes of his sister, I guess it's okay, then, he muttered, grudgingly accepting Reis' hug and pulling away scant seconds later.  
  
Big sister, Quain whined, moving up to her other side and pulling at her loose yellow dress, I'm thirsty.  
  
The placid girl frowned at this. But Mama and Papa aren't back yet.  
  
Arin and Rela Dular, completely trusting in the daughter they had so lovingly raised, decided to let her watch her younger brothers while they took some kills over to Lionel castle town. From there the poached monsters would be sent to the fur shop in Warjilis. The isolated Lionel port city depended on hunters to supply them with monsters to make into products for trade, and therefore paid more for the remains than Dorter. After all, the trade city of central Ivalice had a multitude of resources to draw from and paid less for them.  
  
Business pervades all occupations, and the concept of supply and demand' was not lost on the isolated hunting family.  
  
The young parents had left for Lionel castle town that morning, and weren't expected until sometime before nightfall. Neither the mother nor the father set down restrictions in any shape or form, but the young girl was still wary of leaving to go to the well at the bottom of the hill. She could head down to the well by herself, but that would mean leaving the volatile twins alone. She could take them, but the heat of the summer days often made monsters hostile and restless, and if she had to face one down with her brothers in tow...  
  
I'll go to the well alone, she announced while getting up, you two have to promise not to fight though, or else I won't get any water.  
  
Tyrei turned to Quain. That means that she doesn't wanna hear you cry like a baby when she comes back.  
  
I'm not a baby!  
  
Crybaby, crybaby!  
  
I'm not a baby! Big sister, make him stop!  
  
For the nth time since their parents had left, Reis sighed. She loved her brothers, she really did, but she couldn't be expected to have the unlimited patience of her mother at such a young age. She had watched her brothers countless times since she was deemed fit to do so, but this was her first time doing so completely unaided. This meant that her parents really thought she was like an adult. They respected her enough to let her do this.  
  
She couldn't let them down now.  
  
The young girl nodded to herself. She couldn't let down her parents. One day, one day soon, she was going to be just like her wonderful Mama. This was just another test, just like all the tests that her parents put her up to in hunting and domestic skills.  
  
It was just a short jaunt down the hill.  
  
Her parents were always encouraging her to be stronger. She was happily dependent on their praise, willingly drunk on their love. Because of that affection, she was willing to do anything for her family. And when she became another year older, that meant she could do even more for them.  
  
She could protect her brothers.  
  
And when she turned fifteen and truly became an adult, she really would be able to do anything for her family, both the one she was born into and the one she would create.  
  
There were risks she had to undertake before that time, though.  
  
Tyrei, Quain, you're coming with me. Come on, get the bucket for the well.  
  
The boys pried themselves away from engaging in their usual arguments and ran to the kitchen, where the sturdy wooden bucket was stored.  
  
Pale pink lips stretched at their cooperation. They curved at her decision.  
  
She could handle whatever problems this decision incurred. She was sure of it.  
  
After some preparation time later, which included finding a hunting crossbow and some bolts as well as breaking up another fight between the twins, the Dular siblings left their comfortable home and took the usual twisty route down to the well. Tyrei and Quain, while holding the bucket between their bodies in a stubborn, possessive manner, trampled down the path inelegantly. Reis walked at a steady gait behind them, loosely holding onto her weapon with her left hand--as ambidexterity was a talent she had not yet completely mastered--and watched her brothers with a content gaze.  
  
They reached the well without incident, and the young girl took the bucket away from her brothers. Securing it to the rope connected to the simplistic machinery of the well, she let it fall down until she heard a splash, then manipulated the rope around until she felt certain that there was enough water in the bucket. She was about to pull it up when she felt a calloused hand on her shoulder. Hm, what is it... her eyes followed the direction of her words as she turned her head. Quain was there, longish brown hair falling into unusually focused eyes. A sudden nervous tremor jumped in her belly, what's wrong?  
  
Although he had a softer personality than his older twin, Quain Dular seemed to be better at hunting than Tyrei for one reason only: like his older sister and mother, he could easily attune himself to the language of the monsters. However, while his female counterparts were only fluent in the language of no words, he seemed to have an extra sensitivity when it came to the energies that monsters wielded. That particular energy wasn't magic, but something very much like it.  
  
This strange empathy made him an excellent tracker.  
  
There's a large monster watching us from the hill, he said in a quiet tone, I...it wants to kill us, although not to eat us. It's big, and it's strong, a small shudder shook through the little boy as he stared up into his sister's darkening expression, what is it, big sister?  
  
Rela worked on different things with different children. With Quain, she worked on his tracking abilities. With Tyrei, she placed different weapons in his hands to make him an efficient hunter that didn't rely on just one tool of the trade. With Reis, it was on domestic chores and memorization, as the girl seemed to remember the tiniest quality about the most insignificant things.  
  
_It wants to kill us._'  
  
That could be anything, the young girl thought as she subtly scanned the cliff, a skill learned from her defensively-inclined father.  
  
_Although not to eat us._'  
  
The images of chocobos and bull demons, as well as their relatives, instantly came to her mind as Tyrei silently moved closer to the well.  
  
_It's big, and it's strong._'  
  
Light brown eyes caught the glimpse of a reddish hide behind some trees some distance away on the hill. With an outstretched hand, she pulled Tyrei, then Quain behind her, groping for the crossbow she had left on the rim of the well at the same time. She had just about grasped the long-range weapon when the monster suddenly charged through the trees, leaping just before its hooves would land upon air rather than earth. When it landed, although it was quite a distance away from the siblings, the earth rumbled and quaked furiously, causing both twins to lose their balance and fall into their sister. They clung to her, latching onto her waist, and the three looked up at the powerful monster.  
  
Stalking towards them was a regular adult minitaurus, easily identifiable from its close cousins due to its gray underbelly and dusky red shoulders. Its elongated bovine head was tiny and looked incapable of supporting the weight of the giant bone horns protruding from either side of it. Adding to the lack of proportion of the monster was how miniscule the head seemed on top of the hulking mass of muscle that formed the rest of its bipedal body. Tiny, beady black eyes glared hate at the humans before it.  
  
Behind Reis, the twins whimpered.  
  
Suddenly, Reis knew there was nothing she could do. The only weak points on the giant monster were its eyes, and she knew that she couldn't hit the tiny orbs of black before the minitaurus rushed them. The last time she made a shot like that was when she was two; incidentally, that was the first and last time she didn't have to rush to make a shot. The doubt that clenched her heart tightly squeezed just a little harder as she realized that the hide of the bovine was too thick for her simple little crossbow's bolts.  
  
She had to protect her brothers.  
  
Peering into the murderous, dull eyes, she couldn't help but speak. Maybe, she reasoned to herself, she could form a plan for a safe escape. Why do you want to kill us?  
  
It stopped, air whistling out of the monster's snout in unmistakable derision.  
  
(_Human, are you that stupid?_)  
  
Reis was an innocent, even with all the death she had seen over the years. I don't understand.  
  
(_LIAR!_)  
  
They all flinched, even monster-deaf Tyrei, as the sudden roar collided into their fragile ears. With rising fear, the eldest child couldn't help but continue to talk as her mind flashed through possible plans of escape. Mama and Papa always said that lying is a bad thing to do, so I wouldn't do that to you.  
  
(_Monsters kill humans. Humans kill monsters. You kill my kind, I kill you_)  
  
The law of nature in its purest form can never be disputed.  
  
The blonde's words died in her throat as she realized that nothing she said would deter the monster from its goal. I won't let you, her voice was higher than usual, betraying her fear as she slowly raised the crossbow, aiming the loaded bolt at the approaching monster's right eye, I have my brothers to protect.  
  
Her fear wasn't really for her own life.  
  
(_Hm. Humans don't usually care to protect their own. Only their own lives do they truly care for_)  
  
I don't want to die, Reis swallowed painfully, the dry walls of her throat grinding roughly as she talked, but it's my responsibility to protect my brothers. That's what Mama said, tears sprang up in her eyes as the mentioned siblings hugged her tightly, but she didn't dare move her other arm to wipe them away.  
  
The earth groaned agonizingly beneath them as the minitaurus took another step forward, nostrils flaring as it grunted.  
  
(_Odd. You don't look strong. Why protect your kin when you yourself are weak?_)  
  
She blinked, and the gathered tears rolled down cheeks still round with baby fat, hanging off of her chin for a moment before falling to the ground. Because I  
  
_havetowanttoneedto_  
  
must.  
  
It was the only answer she could give while standing within throwing distance from death.  
  
The monster lowered its head, curved horns pointing towards the siblings, and appeared to be considering something. After an excruciating moment of stillness, the minitaurus turned around, grunting lightly.  
  
(_Spare my kin as I have spared you and we can co-exist. Do not heed my warning and die for it_)  
  
Long after the hulking monster had left, Reis couldn't lower her left arm. The crossbow pointed into the air, ready to shoot, ready to kill.  
  
But she couldn't lower it.  
  
-----  
  
the word isn't so much said as it is breathed, and I can't help but feel a spark of pride once a grudging sense of admiration fills his dark eyes, and events like that were fine with your parents?  
  
They were just happy that we were all okay. It was a scary event, but it was just something to live with. Well, it's not as if they could've done anything about the monsters short of killing off the entire population.  
  
Smiling softly, he shakes his head. I really meant moving to a different location, but that too, I guess, my face goes completely blank. I don't know about moving away, but the other solution' ...that's a horrible idea, ...that wasn't possible?  
  
Of course it's not possible. We're hunters, not murderers. We kill monsters for the benefit of other humans, yes, but we don't kill for the sake of killing... what am I saying? It was an innocent question, but somehow I feel offended... sorry, um...  
  
It's okay, Beowulf says quickly, I didn't realize it until now, but we were really raised differently. Voluntarily living in one large monster's den, teaching children how to kill and such...it's so different from grammar lessons and running around city streets, he looks at me with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face, it makes me wonder if there's a best' way to raise children.  
  
I look away, out at the hill just before us.  
  
I don't like that question.  
  
If he's willing to ask me a question like that...I can't help but feel like God is pressuring me to tell him that he won't have to worry about that with me.  
  
A cruel God, I'm sure of it by now.  
  
I suppose that question doesn't really matter right now, he says just a little too loudly. Ah, okay. We sit silently for a couple of seconds before his arm shifts slightly around my shoulders, ah, Reis, there was another memory you wanted to tell me, right?  
  
Definitely cruel.   
  
I don't want to!  
  
his deep voice is so alluring, like a tempting treat for my ears, for me that I can't help but look over at him. There is curiosity etched along his wonderfully masculine face, and his eyes...his eyes... if you don't want to remember or tell me, you don't have to, the conviction in his voice is at odds with the blatant curiosity, but it really isn't a mixed signal.  
  
If I don't tell him now, then I really don't deserve him. I deserve to be alone if I keep pushing him away.  
  
I can do this.  
  
Oh, Beowulf, my attempt to smile is a pitiful waste of energy, and one that draws an odd expression to cross his face, I'll tell you everything.  
  
The gnawing guilt of cowardice or the pounding anxiety of bravery...which hurts more?  
  
It really doesn't feel like I'm being brave.  
  
-----  
  
(August of Pantora 39)  
  
It was a rare occurrence, but the entire Dular family was at home.  
  
Rela and Reis were in the kitchen, setting up breakfast. Arin was outside with Tyrei and Quain, watching the boys as they carefully skinned a behemoth. Every once in awhile their father would absently shift his right arm around, which was uncomfortably tied up in a sling after a bull demon had charged at him a few days before.  
  
The matriarch of the family looked up from her kettle on the stove. Reis, could you go down to the well? I could use some more water.  
  
Okay, Mama, the girl on the cusp of womanhood chirped brightly and reached for the well bucket, which was in its place next to the stove. She picked it up and made her way through the small cabin and out the door, Papa, I'm going to get some water.  
  
He nodded at this with a smile brightening up his face, blond stubble visible around his cheeks and chin. Reis secretly guessed what her mother really wanted the water for and grinned. Little Reis, you'd better hurry up, your brothers are almost done.  
  
Peering around his shoulder, she could see the truth of his statement. Don't worry, Papa, I'll be back before those slowpokes ever come close to finishing!  
  
You're on! Tyrei looked back, amber eyes shining with fun and his usual energy. He nudged his brother, Quain, hurry up, we can't lose to Reis!  
  
Ahh! I almost cut myself! Stupid! With that war cry, the younger twin elbowed the elder, and the elbowing quickly degenerated into a shoving match. With an embarrassed little grin, the oldest Dular sibling quietly left the scene and down the side path to the well. It was barely after dawn, which was why she felt safe not taking a weapon with her. Besides, her experience with talking to monsters had improved vastly since the time she had talked her way out of being killed by a minitaurus.  
  
She felt completely safe on Bariaus Hill.  
  
Humming quietly to herself, she reached the well and attached the bucket to the end of the rope, sending it down in time with her unstable melody. She took her time to gather up the water, pulling the rope every which way while enjoying the mild temperature of the late August morning. The sky was a wonderful shade of blue with a yellow orb steadily climbing towards its apex, promising a typical summer day.  
  
--tomptomptomp--  
  
She heard the sound of human footsteps and looked up, faint surprise blossoming on her face at the noise. Except for her family, it was odd to see humans traipsing around the hill. Before her stood three men, wearing strange clothes. Reis didn't really know anything about fashion styles other than what was practical to make, so their blue and beige clothes didn't form too much of a reaction in her. They also had unsheathed weapons, but she quickly brushed that off too. This _was_ Bariaus Hill. Hello there, she smiled kindly, innocently, are you lost?  
  
Aren't you a pretty girl? One of the men stepped forward, right up to the lithe girl. She blushed at his comment, having never heard a compliment from someone who wasn't a family member. She didn't know anything about the attitudes of other people other than her family. And so disarmed by the comment, she didn't notice the leer on the man's face.  
  
However, she did notice the cold steel of his sword when it was brutally thrust just below her ribcage.  
  
Nothing more than an inaudible whisper escaped her lips as her entire body tensed up at the sudden attack. With impossibly wide eyes, she saw the man smile almost kindly before the blade was yanked out of her stomach and he kicked her down. All she could do was lay there as her body twitched and trembled beyond her control.  
  
You didn't haveta do her in so fast. I'da liked to have some fun with her first.  
  
With that little girl? Well, maybe if we're lucky there'll be some more up ahead. That girl used this path, right?  
  
It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. It hurt to live. But she had to warn everybody, she had to!  
  
  
  
As she began to close her eyes, the sudden sleepiness smothering her gently like a hug, she couldn't help but notice just how blue the sky was...  
  
-----  
  
I had started lowering my head before I reached the part about reaching the well, my voice following. It...it hurts to talk about that. A part of me still wishes that I had kept that hole in my memory sealed up.  
  
Who in their right mind wants to remember their...their death?  
  
With his arm still around me, Beowulf's other hand touches my chin, softly raising it with his thumb. We stare at each other, although with his face is as blank as mine feels...it seems more like we're mirroring each other. His thumb slips down from the bottom of my chin, his fingers lightly pressing against the right side of my neck. After a moment, he pulls it away. You're warm, this is said in an almost accusing tone, one that I can only sigh at.  
  
I almost want to apologize for what I'm about to do.  
  
Pulling away from Beowulf, I stand. Wordlessly, I bend over enough to grab the end of my hem, lifting up the skirt of my dress first over my pants, then over my bare stomach. He sits up quickly, eyes widening in surprise. Reis, what're you... his words seem to die a quick death as he stares.  
  
I wore pants today for a reason.  
  
What kind of wound does that look like to you?  
  
He would know. He's a knight, after all.  
  
He flinches at my words. My God... slowly, almost tantalizingly so, he raises his right hand. The feather-like touch of his thumb is something more than any of his caresses as it traces over my angry-red scar, and my throat tightens at the feeling, is there...is there another scar on your back?  
  
I shake my head. It...it went up.  
  
His eyes widen and he pulls his hand away. I don't understand. Why a killing blow on a defenseless girl... he looks at me with a sort of gloomy expectancy. I can't blame him, what happened?  
  
Letting go of my hem, I watch as it softly floats down to my knees, then I kneel down a fair distance away from him. I can only watch as his eyes flicker when he notes the distance between us. His face tenses at this, completely at odds with the way he casually leans against the tree, long legs outstretched before him.  
  
I don't think I could willingly finish if I could feel his warmth next to me.  
  
What happened?' My lips tremble as I take in his mostly blank face. I became the person I am today.  
  
-------  
  
It was white, almost blindingly so.  
  
She distinctly remembered the sky was blue, but when she looked up there was only white.  
  
She touched her arm, but there was no feeling, no warmth.  
  
There was something wrong about this place.  
  
(_That deep, hm?_)  
  
The voice was grave and fairly pulsing with wisdom. It wasn't anyone she recognized. But she still liked it anyway, because she had felt a sudden tingle throughout her body when it spoke.  
  
It felt like being alive.  
  
(_Poor childling. Tell me, are you scared?_)  
  
A little bit, she said honestly, admiring the way her voice seemed to bounce around, should I be?  
  
(_No. Do you remember anything?_)  
  
Her name was Reis. Reis Dular. She was the oldest daughter of Arin and Rela Dular, and she had two younger brothers, Tyrei and Quain. She was thirteen and a half. She was a hunter. Is there something I shouldn't remember?  
  
A tiny nudging in the deepest recesses of her mind prodded at her that she had forgotten something of vital importance, but she ignored it.  
  
She had an excellent memory.  
  
(_Then, I will be able to fulfill my agreement_)  
  
Suddenly, she was curious at what sort of agreement would include her and her memory.  
  
(_Little one, that promise I will keep. A darkness like the night untainted...._)  
  
It wasn't bright anymore.  
  
(_Open your eyes_)  
  
She did so.  
  
The sky was blue, and she blankly stared up at it for a few minutes before deciding to get up. Sitting up, she noticed a giant red dragon sitting next to her, dark purple blood steadily flowing from a wound on its front right leg. She stared at it, and with sickly yellow eyes the dragon stared back. She felt tired again, so she laid back down and closed her eyes.  
  
She slept, no dream willing to drift at the edge of her consciousness.  
  
The next time she woke up, there was no red dragon. There was, however, a man in heavy white robes who was lightly shaking her shoulders. Are you okay, miss?  
  
She stared at him blankly.  
  
Do you have any family around here?  
  
The answer was yes, she knew that. But also...she tried to dig deeper, but she couldn't remember.  
  
There doesn't seem to be anybody else on this hill. Which town are you from?  
  
But her family lived on this hill. She knew that much. They loved her a lot.  
  
Why would they be gone?  
  
_Maybe they abandoned me._  
  
She couldn't stop that thought from ricocheting around her head, gaining speed with each bounce.  
  
_There has to be a good reason._  
  
She seemed to be moving with the man who had been asking her questions, but she was reasonably sure that her legs weren't moving.  
  
_I'm alone.  
  
_And somehow, that statement felt right.  
  
She was alone.  
  
-----  
  
We sit in silence for long, stretched out minutes that seem to float by, linked together and inseparable. With each moment liquid anxiety sloshes around in my stomach, churning and colliding in the small space.  
  
If I had ever thought that remembering would bring me a measure of closure, I was wrong. It seems like all there is now are more questions.  
  
What happened to my family?  
  
What happened to those men?  
  
What am I?  
  
He looks at me. Sometimes when he gazes at me it feels like he's looking into me. I...it's uncomfortably pleasant. Well, it's mostly pleasant.  
  
Right now, it hurts.  
  
I'm not sure I understand, the small frown on his face confirms this. Small bubbles of uneasiness bounce around inside my stomach. I don't...do we have to stay on this subject? so you were, ah...revived and the memory of the event was sealed by that red dragon. Right?  
  
That's a succinct way of putting it.   
  
He moves up to me, reaching out to touch my face. I let him. I'll let him do anything.  
  
I feel powerless.  
  
...It's in the past, Reis, he sighs, drawing me up to his chest. The hand on my face slips through my hair to the back of my head. I can feel his other arm snake around my waist, holding me against him, at least you're alive now.  
  
As long as I breathe...is that something to be thankful for?  
  
My eyelids drift downward, multicolored sparks behind them. Why me, though? And what does that make me now? My hearing, my senses...what am I? What have I been for the last eight years? I... my throat tightens. My eyes are stinging, I'm strange, right?  
  
I knew I was different. I knew that. But...at least before I thought...  
  
Before, I was at least certain that I was human.  
  
Why...what was the point of subjecting me to this? Tear away at my humanity, at my memory, all for another chance at life?  
  
All I am now is a living desecration of the laws of nature.  
  
You're Reis, aren't you? He whispers in my exposed left ear, hugging me tightly, Isn't that who you are? Anything else is irrelevant. Everybody's strange, so why should you be any different? His last question is lighthearted and teasingly fun.  
  
Fun? Is there something fun' about this? Is there?!  
  
Sudden anger flares through me, burning through the thick cobwebs of depression that were layering in my mind. Blindly I shove him away, glaring right into his surprised face. Is this funny to you? I can't keep my body from trembling as I wrap my arms around myself. My vision is blurry, my head is pounding erratically, I don't think this is funny at all... my throat painfully constricts, and these tears won't stop falling...  
  
God, I'm pathetic.  
  
Sloppily I start wiping away at my tears with the heels of my hands, keeping my head lowered so that he can't look at my face.  
  
He must be embarrassed to know someone as pathetically ungrateful as me.  
  
I am.  
  
Lashing out at the one person who's tried from the very beginning to understand me...I'm a horrible person, right? Others come and go, die or move away, and he stays behind, so of course I have to alienate myself from him too.  
  
I hate this.  
  
It would've been better to stay dead.  
  
Movement by movement, the sound of the grass being flattened invades my ears. I smile bitterly. Congratulations, Reis. Even Beowulf has his limits, and I've more than trampled on them by now.  
  
Someone like me deserves to be alone.  
  
I...deserve it...  
  
Strong arms wrap around my shoulders. Slightly chapped lips press against the center of my forehead, then my head is nestled underneath his chin. I'm sorry, he whispers softly, I didn't...I was just trying to lighten the mood. I didn't mean to hurt you...  
  
I...I can't take this anymore.  
  
Even if I deserve it, I don't...I don't want to be alone!  
  
With a muffled wail, I throw my arms around his waist and cry even harder into his chest. One of the buttons of his jacket is poking my cheekbone, coolly imprinting itself onto my skin. He stiffens for a moment--I suppose I've surprised him yet again--then relaxes, lightly stroking my hair.  
  
I don't understand why he's so patient with me. Why does he put up with me?  
  
He has such amazing strength of character...  
  
Can't I...at least pretend I have that as well?  
  
Moving back from his chest, I smile embarrassedly as I hurriedly wipe away the tears with the back of my hands. I-I'm sorry...I'm being really irrational, okay, my face doesn't seem too wet anymore. I put my arms loosely around his waist and look up into his slightly concerned face, I don't know how you can stand to deal with me...  
  
Well, Sis is a lot more emotional, so I don't think you're so bad, he shrugs, pulling me closer to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and he kisses me on the forehead once, twice before smiling at me, besides, you're stressed. With that sort of memory, I can understand why.  
  
Well, if he says so... Thank you for understanding, I sniffle, making a face at how...thick that sounded. Ew, I think I'll go wash my face at the well.  
  
he says easily, unwrapping his arms from around my shoulders. I let go of him and stand up, making my way over to the well. One of the chocobos is there, staring forlornly into it. It looks over at me, sadness in its large blue eyes.  
  
  
  
(_Please, I desire water_)  
  
Wow, it can talk. How long have you been waiting there? I reach for the rope, hoping that there's a bucket at the other end of it. Pull, pull, pull...  
  
  
  
(_I don't know_)  
  
I don't know why, but I feel sorry for it. Hm, something's appearing...a bucket. Is this the bucket I used that day...?  
  
Hm.  
  
After unlatching it from the rope, I give it to the chocobo, but it quickly backs away. It squawks loudly, fear in its eyes.  
  
(_Humans go first. Humans always go first_)  
  
...Odd answer from a monster. It must've been raised by humans...how sad. Has it really lost all its instincts? Strangely unsettled at that idea, I place the bucket on the rim of the well and, with cupped hands, I gather up some water to throw on my face. It's cold and...oh, I don't have a handkerchief. Drops of water drip from my chin and the tip of my nose.  
  
...Well, at least it'd be hard to tell which parts of my face look messy now.  
  
With my forearms, I quickly wipe away at the water on my face. Reaching into the bucket with a single cupped hand, I take a few sips of water. Crying really dehydrates a person...I don't remember ever really crying before. Though...it feels nice to get all that emotion out, even if I looked ridiculous doing so. Here you go, the wood grain of the bucket is rough against my hands as I push it towards the waiting chocobo. Lots of travelers would have to have been using it over the years, or else it'd be a lot softer, sorry to take so long.  
  
Its head is bowed, yet it's looking up at me. it says in a tiny voice before dipping its beak into the bucket.  
  
(_Thank you_)  
  
It's a little too polite for a monster. I smile at it and tread back to Beowulf, running my wet hands down the front of my dress while crossing through the dirt path into the grass. He's standing up and facing the hill with a rather...strange expression on his face. Is something wrong? I murmur as I approach him, glancing over in the direction his eyes are focused on. Yes, the hill is definitely still there.  
  
Oh, hello, he smiles at me, I was just thinking...do you want to go up there and find your old home?  
  
Ah...well, that'd be... my voice sounds hopeful to my ears, but...I feel more than that. More than nervous, or scared, or anxious...  
  
What will I find?  
  
It's like I keep tearing down all these walls, even though I cringe at whatever's behind it. And there are always reasons for building walls...some things need to be protected.  
  
Do I need to be protected?  
  
I take another glance at the hill. So close...it's just a short jaunt over to my home from here. It's just an unassuming chunk of land. The residents of the hill can hurt me, but I'm not scared of that. What I could find out by going there is scary, and it's right in front of me right now. I could never have another chance like this one.  
  
I'd never forgive myself if I didn't take those few steps forward.  
  
Don't worry, Beowulf's arm slides around my shoulders. I glance over at him...hm? The look on his face is unusually intense... I'll be with you. I'll protect you.  
  
From what? The only thing I'm truly scared of is the truth about what happened all those years ago...about me. In the end, it's only me who has to deal with that knowledge. If I wanted to be protected, I wouldn't have come here.  
  
But, it's nice to know that I'm not alone. Whatever happens...I won't be alone.  
  
I don't need to be protected, I smile calmly as he raises an eyebrow at my words. Moving out from under his arm, I grasp his larger hand in mine, my thumb running along the back of his hand, but can you stay with me anyway?  
  
Even if it's selfish of me to ask...but could you stay with me always?  
  
He shifts his hold on my hand, entwining our fingers together as he smiles softly at me. His smile...I love all of his smiles... Anything for you, he murmurs, and all I can do is smile as something inside me flares out, bathing me in warmth and contentment and...there really is no way to describe all these feelings. He laughs a little, just as long as you smile like that to me every once in awhile, I'll be happy. Shall we go?  
  
Somehow, I manage to temper down my ridiculously large smile into something a little more subdued. Yes, let's go.  
  
I'll be fine, no matter what happens.  
  
Quietly, we trek up into the hill using the old side path that I used to take in my youth...it makes me feel old to think that.  
  
--_Reis, Reis! Let's race down the path!_--  
  
Has it really been such a long time?  
  
--_Big sister, I stubbed my to-e an' it hurts--_  
  
It doesn't feel that way...  
  
--_Darling Reis, you always look like you're dreaming, even when you're walking_--  
  
I guess I've never really grown up past that point.  
  
--_Little Reis, don't run off like that...I'm not that young anymore!_--  
  
Or maybe I just don't want to admit I have.  
  
Although the path continues upward, there's another path swerving to the left. Gently, I tug on Beowulf's hand and he stops and looks around. This way, the words slip out of my mouth. He nods, still taking in the scenery. I don't see why, it's really quite plain around here as well. There's a fairly large plain' made of dirt and weeds in front of us, which is abruptly ended by a large cliff wall not so far ahead, and a continuation to the sloping path to the right of him.  
  
I'm home, everyone.  
  
Will you greet me back?  
  
We walk over to the cliff wall, then we turn left and walk alongside the wall until...ah, here it is. A narrow path leading directly to my hom--!!  
  
Wh-what is this...  
  
What's wrong? Beowulf whispers. His hand is crushing mine. I turn to look up at him as he looks forward, Is this a dead end?  
  
It didn't...it wasn't like this...where...  
  
I want to go forward, but there isn't anything to go forward to.  
  
Beyond this path, too narrow for large monsters to pass through with the cliff to the right and emptiness to the left, there's supposed to be an widening with a small cabin at the end of the path.  
  
That's what it's supposed to be...  
  
Where...where is it now?!  
  
(_I thought I felt a unique presence_)  
  
A voice...? I look around...who's talking to me? Nothing in front, nothing back where we came from...up? Glancing up along the cliff, I see a rumbled-looking green dragon, nothing but passive curiosity in its sickly yellow eyes.  
  
Something in those eyes...it won't hurt us.  
  
Beowulf starts, and when I lower my eyes from the dragon to look at him, he's reaching up with his right hand to the hilt of his sword in its scabbard on his back. I whisper. He looks over at me, confusion swirling around in his dark eyes, he won't attack us, and I had better be right about that. I look up at the dragon again, isn't that true?  
  
(_I have no motive to. Although, I am a bit wary at the fact that you brought one of those dark-robed death bringers to this place_)  
  
What? He is a human, Beowulf is an honorable knight. He's not to be lumped in with common murderers.  
  
(_Forgive me, I often mix up my synonyms_)  
  
I'm not nearly that naive--of monsters' intents, anyway--but I take a deep breath. Ah, doesn't really help... Is there another reason you've come here? I highly doubt he came over here just to make insulting comments.  
  
(_Impatient, aren't you? I just wanted to see you again. You are a rarity and I'd like to talk with you for awhile. Of course, if you have any questions, perhaps I can help quell your curiosity_)  
  
That's...that's awfully kind for a dragon.  
  
--(Childling, this is our boon. In return for your help, we can lift the darkness that blinds you from your true potential)--  
  
Of course, they've been nothing but kind towards me. It's a little unsettling. I glance over at Beowulf, who looks very out of place. he whispers when he notices my eyes on him, what's going on?  
  
I squeeze his hand gently. Even Tyrei learned how to talk to monsters after awhile, so it's hard for me to remember what it's like to be around someone who is monster-deaf. It must be hard to live like that...to live with a deafness to everything but humans. It's okay, it just wants to talk to me.  
  
He smiles wryly. Well, better you than me, all things considering, I smile back as he visibly loosens up. If he gets uncomfortable with the situation, we'll just leave.  
  
I'm curious, but Beowulf is still alive.  
  
I won't be like that woman.  
  
Tell me, I gesture with my left hand towards the now-empty opening, there used to be a cabin there eight summers ago. What happened to it? To this, the dragon does something that seems like the equivalent gesture of thinking deeply, bending its head down and staring out at the distance. I wonder... Can you remember that time?  
  
(_Time flows like a steady river for our kind, neither disturbed by drought or storms, so the memory is easily retrievable. That time eight summers ago was an especially memorable time, for the Exiled One came to pollute our kind's ways once again_)  
  
Exiled One'? Who is this Exiled One'?  
  
(_One of our own, one who watched the downfall of humanity and their pitiful climb to their petty ways of this day. Feeling pity for them, that one sought to enlighten several of them with that one's own life, blood and aura both. They transformed into something approaching us, but kept their human forms. Because of that, these creatures tried to integrate themselves into human society after being rejected by us, and eventually died out_)  
  
I see... So, he was exiled because he dared to interfere with the natural laws... something about this... if you feel that way, why are you lowering yourself to talk to me?  
  
(_Those ones of before were purely human in mind. Petty, selfish, just like humanity has always been. However, you show an interesting potential, one that we would not mind to call ours'_)  
  
Later...I'll get back to that later. I don't think I want to deal with it now. So, the Exiled One was here. Why?  
  
(_To visit the human of exception_)  
  
...Mama? That would be the only answer to make sense. She would often visit the dragon dens, so I would think she was an exception of sorts... Okay, I know who you're referring to, to my words the dragon spreads its underdeveloped wings, fanning them out.  
  
(_My curiosity is stoked. Who was this human? My kind tolerated her for a number of summers. Although we do prefer to merely watch the going-ons of the world, we are partial to those brave ones who would allow us to quench our interest in the doings of humanity_)  
  
That would be my mother, I murmur. My right hand is squeezed, and I glance over at Beowulf's concerned face. Squeezing his hand back, I lean into him just a bit. He's so solid...he's so accepting...  
  
(_Ah. An interesting revelation. Indeed, it was her that the Exiled One came to visit. That one did so almost proudly, as if it still belonged in this place. But there were also other humans, ones with the killing intent blazing in their auras_)  
  
N-no...I don't...  
  
(_My kind watched as those humans, typical of their kind, stormed about. They seemed to be looking for something. That kind always is. Somehow they wandered along this path and discovered the dwelling that once stood just yonder of our meeting here_)  
  
I can't... Stop it, please!  
  
That's...that's more than enough!  
  
Those men...that man that killed me...they wouldn't have any compunction not to...  
  
(_I see that you have come to the conclusion that could only result in such a meeting_)  
  
To say that so passively...I don't care if they are dragons! Why didn't you help? If you could talk of Mama with something of fondness, why...?  
  
If they could just sit back and watch as my family was killed, they're just as guilty!  
  
Beowulf lets go of my hand, wrapping his arm around my waist and holding me against him. I don't look over at him, but I do lean into him even more.  
  
If I didn't have his support, I don't think I could...I still don't think I can take this...  
  
(_That is our way. We do not involve ourselves into human conflicts. At least, most of us do not. The Exiled One only arrived at this time, hurrying over to your dwelling along this level of land that I now sit upon, and killed the intruders after their attack. What happened next is beyond my understanding, but that one then had the dwelling consumed in flames and then left the same way it had arrived_)  
  
The Exiled One set my house on fire?   
  
Why would a dragon do a thing like that?  
  
(_The breathing of fire is not natural to any of our kind, but that ability is known to those of his color. I personally have heard of our abilities awakening around that human you call mother'. Perhaps she willed such a thing to occur_)  
  
...I wouldn't rule that out of her mindset. She's always done things for the sake of the family', and she might've seen that to be the best way because she didn't want my family's bodies to be...desecrated...  
  
God.  
  
(_Now, I must query. You have an aura that belies your true self, but that would imply that you were not at your dwelling when the attack occurred. It whispers of the Exiled One's influence, just like that seal that once existed deep inside your mind. I would like to understand where you were at that time, and why a seal would be placed?_)  
  
wrapping my right arm around Beowulf's waist, I feel a bit more steady. He squeezes me a bit, his fingers light against my stomach.  
  
With his support, I can do anything.  
  
I was found by those murderers at the well on the north side of the hill, the dragon's wings flap once at this, its expression tinged with interest, I don't know why I had a seal to block of the memory of what happened here--  
  
--(Little one...that promise I will keep. A darkness like the night sky untainted...)--  
  
It was a promise, I whisper, the words hushed to even my sensitive hearing, but...I don't know who made it promise that...  
  
I don't want to admit it.  
  
Could she really have...?  
  
(_You are being scarce with your information. So then, I must ask why such a promise was made_)  
  
No...Mama never would...she wouldn't...  
  
But she had to have done it.  
  
She had to be the one who asked that Exiled One to make me like this, to seal my memory of that time...  
  
--_I'll do anything for my family in order to protect them. That's my duty as a wife, as a mother. You'll understand that too someday, my darling Reis_--  
  
You went too far, Mama.  
  
To break the laws of nature, to seal up my memory without my consent...even if she wasn't the actual person doing it, she was the one responsible.  
  
To protect me...no, that's not protection at all.  
  
That's just playing God.  
  
The Exiled One made a promise with Mama. I don't know what exactly was said, but it must've been to revive me and block the memory of what happened that day, I can feel everybody's eyes on me even as I lower my head, apparently she thought it was best to have me...start over...  
  
Was that really the best solution? After I arrived at Murond, I could only think that my family abandoned me for some reason or another, that everyone would do that to me, that I was always going to be alone...  
  
There was something wrong with me. That's why.  
  
It's my fault.  
  
But it isn't...it never was...  
  
(_How interesting. Truly, human nature must always be constrained, or else a situation will lead to the most implausible outcomes. What an enlightening talk!_)  
  
I'm glad that you're so happy about it, I mutter sullenly. Even if I am talking to a monster, finding happiness in another's sadness should also be against the natural laws, but now I have a few questions of my own.  
  
(_Certainly_)  
  
Well, might as well go with the best one first. What am I?  
  
(_That would depend on what you wish to be. At this point, you have the potential to be greater than the two parts, or to stay as you are, something lesser than the two parts_)  
  
I...I can't be equal? Those are my only choices?  
  
(_Of course, you can never go back to being just a human. You could never become just a dragon as well. Therefore, it stands that whatever you are must consist of those two parts: either a human with draconian characteristics, or a dragon with human characteristics_)  
  
And I suppose that the greater than the two parts' would be the dragon with human characteristics? I see.  
  
(_So then, what do you perceive yourself to be?_)  
  
Before I returned to Lionel, there's no way I would've thought myself to be on equal standing with other humans. Of course, I didn't think I was greater than them either, but at that time it wouldn't have been too hard to consider myself something not a human.  
  
Now I live by my emotions. I have emotions! I can laugh and cry, love and dislike, I can be anything I want to be because of the things I feel.  
  
--_You're Reis, aren't you? Isn't that who you are? Anything else is irrelevant. Everybody's strange, so why should you be any different?_--  
  
I guess that is kind of funny, now that I think about it.  
  
Why should I be any different?  
  
Forgive me, but I consider myself a human, I look up into the dragon's face, I don't think it's the lesser at all.  
  
There are just too many memorable humans for a thought like that.  
  
(_A pity. Indeed, I almost feel as if that one finally made the right choice with you. Of course, you will note that in your current form, it isn't at all possible for you to live on through your heirs. If this weren't so, there would be a lot more descendants with our aura, however pitifully diluted it would be by now_)  
  
Even that's not my fault, huh? I've figured that out, yes.  
  
I wonder if she knew about all these effects. I wonder if that would've mattered to her anyway.  
  
How far should a parent interfere in her child's life?  
  
Twisting my mind, my body...that's too far, even out of love.  
  
(_If you're wondering, the Exiled One can be found along the plains of sand to the north. As that one keeps persisting to interfere in such a way, perhaps that one can answer the questions that I cannot_)  
  
Thank you, I whisper. Someday, I'd like to find that dragon. A red dragon...  
  
(_And, with my curiosity sated, I will leave you to your life. Do not misuse the gifts granted to you, and someday I hope you will regain the presence of mind to evolve. Humanity will only corrupt one such as you_)  
  
With a grunt--the only audible noise that the green dragon has made throughout our entire conversation--it departs, methodically turning around and lumbering off.  
  
Even if I think that humans are capable of horrible things--and they are, considering why I'm like this now--I still want to stay as I am now.  
  
There are a lot of good human beings.  
  
Beowulf turns me around slightly so that he can look at my face. He looks relatively calm, although his smile is just a little worn out, did you find out everything you needed?  
  
I better tell him what I learned. That dragon, it said--  
  
I figured out everything from listening to you...though I don't know how you can talk to something that doesn't...make noises back? His eyebrows scrunch together, But then again, I didn't hear that mediator when she was talking to you and you froze up...I think it'll just go over my head, he shakes his head...wait, he didn't hear that mediator talk to me either? ready to go?  
  
But still...there's something else I need to tell him. Even if I don't want to... Beowulf, there's something else I need to tell you.  
  
He sighs, running his right hand through his slicked-back hair. Is something wrong? I place my left hand on his shoulder and he looks at me with weary eyes. Is this something that affects us right this moment in our lives?  
  
...Not exactly. No, but I think it is important.  
  
--_You know, if you want to talk I'm right here. I'd like to hear what's going on in your mind_--  
  
That's what he said at our very first meeting. So why...?  
  
And I'm sure it is, his voice is soft as he reaches up and touches my face with his other hand, I appreciate that you're making the effort to tell me things, but the sun's going down and you need to get back before Buremonda decides to protect you from all of us evil knights' by locking you up in the church, and although he says it in a joking manner, it somehow doesn't seem all that funny. I wonder why...  
  
--_As long as you reside in Lionel as a woman of the Church, whether it be as a cataloger or ward, you are not allowed to establish a relationship with a knight of any rank_--  
  
Hn. Probably because it sounds like something he would do.  
  
But he's right, the sun is starting to go down. It doesn't...yet it feels like we've spent a long time here. I'm sorry, I start to move forward, but he wraps his other arm around my waist, pulling me up to him.  
  
Don't be, he whispers, I just can't handle too many things at once. I'm happy that you wanted me to know about you.  
  
Slowly, my arm moves down from his shoulder to around his waist, where it meets up with the arm already there. Because Beowulf is on the slim side, my hands are able to clasp behind his back. Are you happy with that knowledge?  
  
I don't know if I am.  
  
I'm not the one that it really matters to, his eyes are gentle as he looks down at my face, it doesn't change a thing as far as I'm concerned. But, how are you feeling?  
  
Tired. Very full, but I guess it's best that I knew about what happened to me and why.  
  
If I had known everything I learned today eight years ago, would I have still constructed my little cocoon? Or would I have tried to reach out to other people?  
  
Maybe those questions don't really matter. If the past can't be changed, then why should I worry about it?  
  
He hugs me tightly for a moment longer before slowly loosening his hold on me. We better go back. I think your escorts are bored by now, he pauses, his lips slightly curving upwards, I want you to know that this doesn't change a thing about our relationship. I'm still completely in love with you, letting go of me, he holds out a hand to me, we better hurry.  
  
I smile and take it with my right hand. I love you too, and with large smiles on each of our faces, we start quickly walking back down the hill.  
  
Up until now, my life was not mine when it came to choices. I never had one.  
  
_I'm a hunter.'_  
  
I do appreciate some of the things I've learned through my experiences. If I wasn't a hunter, I would've never learned to listen to the language of the monsters. If I wasn't a cataloger, I would've never learned how to read and write. If I wasn't a dragon-altered human, I wouldn't have been able to help Beowulf with that mediator.  
  
They're all me.  
  
_I'm a cataloger.'_  
  
But I've never had a choice in what I wanted to be. My lifestyles, even the kind of body I have...none of those were my choices to make. So, why exactly have I been angsting over things I can't change?  
  
_I'm a bizarre mix of human and dragon.'_  
  
I don't want to feel guilty because of the things I never had control over. I want to be happy with my life, with who I am. By now I deserve that much.  
  
I deserve the good things in life, too.  
  
--(So then, what do you perceive yourself to be?)--  
  
I'm Reis Dular. Nothing more, nothing less.

-End to chapter 21-

Sorry for the delay, first of all. Life happened, inspiration died. This chapter had the answers everyone was expecting to read, right? I'm not one to care if an answer is predictable', only that it makes sense.  
  
-If you've come across the Super Monster Battle of Bariaus Hill, it's a lot easier to see why I picked that site as Reis' birthplace. If you haven't, it's basically a battle with every single type of dragon (except a tiamat), some behemoths and maybe a chocobo, and maybe a couple guests. The only other places I can remember dragons residing are Bed Desert, Germinas Peak and Deep Dungeon, and the latter shouldn't count. Oh, and the colliery in Goland, but...  
  
- Do not misuse the gifts granted to you': Not like she has many to abuse. Enhanced senses and a very limited Dragon Tame/Cure hybrid are all she has.  
  
-The Exiled One' is, in reality, the guest red dragon of Bed Desert. I've always wondered why a red dragon would help your guys with other dragons and humans.  
  
-Rela must've had Monster Skill on her for the Exiled One to be able to burn down the house, as Fire Breath' is a hidden skill on a red dragon. Its normal skill is Thunder Breath, oddly enough.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey Luna. While adoption would definitely be a viable option--one of my best friends is adopted as well--with the time period involved there would most likely be an element of shame involved, what with the women exist to be mothers only' mentality most likely preexisting in the pseudo-medieval atmosphere of the game. Then again, I might be thinking too deeply about the issue. ; But I do understand what you're saying, and it'd be nice...if only Reis could be persuaded to such a thing.  
More people should definitely experiment with Reis. With just a tiny bit of effort, she can be an amazing warrior/mage, especially with the kind of growth the Dragoner class has. Heh...my Ramza seems to get tossed into Monk, Ninja, Geomancer, then tossed back into Squire. He's a very good support character.  
  
Arreat, I hope you're not disappointed by this chapter. I guess you're not the only one disappearing as of late. ;  
  
Hello, Jaded Soul! Well, I certainly hope that you enjoy this chapter. Ah, Verden...of course he'll be addressed soon', but I'm curious as to what you think about him at this point. However, I think I understand what you mean about his protection of the white mages and Reis.  
Suggestion noted and word changed. That word just sorta snuck in and didn't want to leave...and thank you very much for pointing it out to me.  
  
Ah, Toastyann, now I understand what you mean. The image I have of Beowulf is as the type of person that would withstand a lot from the person he loves, so he's probably learned to stay patient when she clams up. Then again, that quiet quality of hers is what interested him in the first place, so he probably feels he has no right in getting annoyed about that when he knew about it from the beginning. Or something.  
When you first said Reis has Taurean characteristics', I was a bit worried that I had integrated too much of my own personality into her character. But now that I see what you're talking about...nah, most--if not all--can be explained by the life she used to live and what she's experienced. I don't particularly care about matching up exactly to the zodiac, but I have to admit that the game draws a fair amount from the zodiac and so I've tried to match up to that. In Reis' case, she's someone who's constantly evolving, so I barely glanced at the description of a Piscean.  
Please, don't shorten your reviews! I find them to be very interesting and enjoyable, and they really help when I'm looking into the characters themselves. I just like pointing out things like that. ;  
  
Nice to see you, junketsuna kishi! Heh...I didn't even realize that mistake! Seems like I'm getting sloppy when two different people can point out two different mistakes...but, thank you very much!  
  
Yo, Star Eevee! I'm just happy that you're feeling good enough to start reviewing again! I don't know about you, but I tend to see our version of FFT having its own language separate from English. ;  
Ah, someone finally mentioned Mustadio! I was starting to think that he just wasn't going to get any love. Musty is 12 here, as his birthday is in October. Here's an interesting tidbit for you: everybody seems to get Reis and Beowulf at different ages, and I made a mistake on Reis, Beowulf, and Meliadoul's ages. Melly's is fixed at 23, and Reis and Beowulf are more...fluid. Unfortunately, I was writing chapter 11 when I realized it.  
As far as I've been able to tell (after a long time of wrestling with the issue), Balbanes first became sick two years before the end of the war, and died the winter before Ramza entered the academy (which seems to be at least two years before chapter 1). However, in that scene of his death, the war seems to be at a close but not finished, so he would have to have died in Pantora 49. So, he was first affected by the poisoning in Pantora 47. Just remember that Ramza is the same age as Mustadio and Izlude (usually), so in this story he's around 12/3, depending on the birthday. Fun fun fun, huh?  
For the sake of my guilt complex, I preferred to give that chapter a higher rating than the situation itself might call for. Sometime you'll have to tell me how it's like to read a first person, female-perspective of a make-out scene when you yourself are a guy. ;;  
  
Thank you for reading! Please feel free to toss out your questions and comments my way, and I'll do my best to answer. If you have a comment or something not related to this story, please contact me through email. And with that, I'll see everyone later.  
  
Interlude #2: That Person Just For Me: All throughout my life, I've noticed a couple of things. One of them would be that war may be necessary, but it's usually fought for all the wrong reasons. But who would expect a knight to think that?  
  
Another thing is that women have the capacity to be very devoted, a lot more so than most men. Mum could only think of Dad, Salia could only think of Wiegraf, and all Sis ever talks about in her letters is about how much she can't stand her husband. Well, maybe that's a sort of devotion too.  
  
When I was training in the Eastern Lands, I picked up pieces of one of the languages there. And out of all the pieces I gathered, one of them really interested me because it applies to all the couples I had seen up to then: dake no hito'.  
  
That person just for me'.  
  
Until now, I didn't think it'd ever apply to me.'


	23. Interlude 2, pt 1: That Person

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

All throughout my life, I've noticed a couple of things. One of them would be that war may be necessary, but it's usually fought for all the wrong reasons. But who would expect a knight to think that?  
  
Another thing is that women have the capacity to be very devoted, a lot more so than most men. Mum could only think of Dad, Salia could only think of Wiegraf, and all Sis ever talks about in her letters is about how much she can't stand her husband. Well, maybe that's a sort of devotion too.  
  
When I was training in the Eastern Lands, I picked up pieces of one of the languages there. And out of all the pieces I gathered, one of them really interested me because it applies to all the couples I listed: dake no hito'.  
  
That person just for me'.  
  
Finally, finally I know what that means.  
  
--------  
  
Interlude #2: That Person Just For Me  
(A Story Told In 4 Acts)  
  
(Part 1: Acts 1 and 2)  
  
(Act 1: Are you okay?')  
  
I honestly don't know how half this paperwork ends up on my desk. It's not even a matter of why am I the person that has to sign all these things?' I mean, I wake up, throw something in my hair so that it doesn't get in my face and take a quick shave, walk into my office and I swear that three inches of paper will be added to my current backlog. It's like there's some sort of bloody mysterious paperwork ninja hired by the Church that makes sure I'm continuously busy or something.  
  
Well, it could...it has been worse.  
  
Tearing my eyes away from the latest exciting report of expenses from the section in Goug--always a hard thing to do--I reach for my cup of tea next to a small stack of paper on the right side of the desk. I love tea, especially with a lot of sugar cubes. About the first thing I did when I arrived in Lionel...ah, three years ago, was go around and find a nice place that served tea that I could take back to my office. It's a simple pleasure.  
  
Hm, this _is_ sweet...  
  
I hear the door open and I glance up. Oh, Ewon. Seems like he has the mail. He waves and I nod slightly, still drinking down my sweet, sweet tea. Inferior to Lesalian brands, but that's probably the noble inside me talking. Or nostalgia. Is he grinning? 'Ello there, partakin' of yer tea an' biscuits? Yer a good bloke, so maybe you can tell me wot is wit' Lesalians' fascination wit' that stuff?  
  
South End Lesalian dialect...but a whole lot worse. Hm. I kind of miss all the shopkeepers who would bellow sales out at the marketplace back home...but first, Ewon. Calmly I set down my cup. Where's he from, Lenalia Plains... Ah cain't really say, but in the meanwhile Ah done reckon you messed up mah accent.  
  
He looks surprised for a second, brown eyes widening before he starts laughing. Aw yeah, I remember now why I like you better than the last guy who was runnin' things here. That guy was such an ass about everything.  
  
I don't know who the last leader of the Order was. What rank?  
  
Your typical Divine Knight. You know how they are, Ewon shrugs. Ah. I don't know many Divines, except for Tingel, and from what little I've seen of him...I'm surprised he even has children to train. He reminds me of the typical war commander, except he's more refined in the way he barks at people. Of course, he's from Murond, where they're all more refined, even--no, especially a certain tall, beautiful cataloger with the most captivating eyes I've ever seen...  
  
Hey, you want your mail?  
  
...Oh, right. Yeah, I want my mail, great, he's smirking. He tosses down a letter onto a bare area of the desk--increasingly hard to find, which means I should take some of the completed piles over to Buremonda for storage...it can wait--and I glance down at it. Hm, Sis' monthly letter. Hopefully she's still not in that everything bad happens to me' mood, I put it aside for later.  
  
Sure. But let me tell you something, Sir Temple Knight. You may be great at magic and whatnot, but I've got the ability to predict things, looking up at him, he seems to be completely serious. Okay, I'm interested. He holds up the three remaining letters in his hand, pulling out one of them with the other and placing it against his forehead as if he were shielding his eyes from the sun, see, this letter is going to say...hm, Terrin, you've been a knight in a stable area for such a long time now. You're almost twenty-five, and I'm worried about you. Have you considered trying to find a wife yet? Time is running out.' Now observe, he places the other two letters onto a stack of paper on the front of my desk, and rips open the letter he was predicting', scanning through the single sheet inside, well, well, my powers remain unchallenged.  
  
I smirk. Sis is usually ambivalent about things like that, mainly because she has her own life to live. Who's that one from?  
  
God only knows, they're all the same, he mutters, glancing at the letter, hn, Ma. Guess it's better than Sister Number One or something.  
  
Nice name. 'Sister Number One'?  
  
He shrugs. I've got four of em, and they all sound the same to me, snatching up his letters from the stack of papers, he gives me an odd look, don't you hear that same spiel from your sister? You are old and all.  
  
...I really hope he meant older'. I'm only going to be twenty-eight next month. I'm not Chiroseau, in the war, I don't think I could've ever imagined living in ten years. I used to count every year by my birthday, just hoping to see the next one.  
  
Those were the slowest years of my life.  
  
No, but you are the second oldest out of all of us.  
  
Can't really respond to that, though the difference in the age gap between me and Chiroseau is about fourteen years. Yeah, but Reis says I look young.  
  
--_He doesn't look like it, does he?  
  
He doesn't act like it_--  
  
Sort of...well, I'm just more appreciative of life, that's all. This town, this region...it's got a way of cheering someone up. Probably because it feels disconnected with the war.  
  
Hmph, that's cause she's too nice to say anything different, Ewon shakes his head and I shrug. She doesn't say anything unless she means it, which took some getting used to. A quiet, considerate person is pretty rare on the battlefield. Back in Bervenia, everyone was trying to get a word in. One more word, one more moment of feeling alive, is she nice like that all the time?  
  
What kind of question is that? Yeah, always.  
  
he frowns and runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair...a Dark Knight with blond hair is definitely a different sight. Most of them are old, but Ewon was a mercenary like they all seem to be, doesn't that get boring?  
  
On the contrary, she's actually really fun to be around...and not just because she lets me touch her. She's great to talk to and she's interested in doing new things. No, not at all.  
  
He nods at this. That's nice, then. It's always good to have someone that can complement you. My family just wants me to keep the family name going. They're hoping for a noble somewhere down the line...but I guess you don't have to worry about that, I shrug at this. If I had really followed up in being a noble, I'd be at Bethla commanding a squad and kissing up to Orlandu and the Beoulve brothers, just because I'm a lower-end noble. Fun. Or I could be hiding in Lesalia, in an arranged marriage and with children, pretending to do important things. Great.  
  
When I put it in that perspective, being what amounts to a hired assassin for a false religion and butchering innocents who've committed the horrible, horrible crime of believing in different deities is...  
  
Hm, wait, that wasn't the way I was using to justify running to Lionel.  
  
I'm being bitter. I should just accept it and move on, like usual. Where's my tea... Is being a noble really that great? Ah, here it is.  
  
Well, you tell me, he frowns, you hop right out of the Eastern Lands and into a commanding position in the Shrine Knights, and you're not even religious. You're a good leader, but you can't be that naive to think you got the job because of your skill.  
  
Hm. I take a sip of my tea. Ah, better... No, not at all. It's because I can balance the books that I got this job, I'm half-joking. I'm pretty good with money and organization...although my desk doesn't count.  
  
Speaking of that, where's my pay? He's keeping a straight face, but I'm not that stupid.  
  
I seem to recall handing that out two days ago.  
  
Damn. Why do you only remember two things all the time?  
  
What? What would that be?  
  
He raises an eyebrow. When was the last time you paid us, and what time your next date is.  
  
...I feel predictable. Is it already noon?  
  
Don't know, he grins, and I just know he's going to say or ask something about Reis, so, c'mon, what's it been, four, five months already? We're good friends, and you still haven't told me how far you've gotten with her.  
  
...Heh. I smile widely. Well, so far only up to the other side of Bariaus Hill. I'm hoping that I can take her to Zaland before winter comes.  
  
Slowly he smiles, shaking his head at the same time. Nice, real nice. Well--  
  
--knoknoknok--  
  
I wonder who _that_ could be, he rolls his eyes before turning towards the front of the barracks, I'll get it.  
  
I look down at the budget I was scanning through before. Eh...yeah, this looks in order. The only problem I ever have with the monthly budgets are the ones from Zaland, and that's because Wodring's the temporary head over there. Their work never justifies the huge expenditures, and after the whole Ordalian mediator crisis, I'm not going to take that anymore. I mean, it's not that hard to screen people who look like foreigners that use a land route...  
  
Beowulf, you're still working? Should I come back?  
  
God, I love her voice.  
  
I look up, a smile already on my face. I can't help it. No, I'm done, and even if I wasn't, it's still going to be there later anyway. She, on the other hand, only has an hour for her lunch break.  
  
Reis tilts her head at my answer and smiles. It's not one of those joyous almost-grins that she tries to cover up after I give her a compliment about her clothes or whatnot...I wish I knew what that exactly is. She needs that kind of happiness more often. But no, it's her normal smile, just a simple delicate upturning of her lips. On any other person that kind of smile usually means something like I'm just playing along,' but with Reis, well...it seems to be the only happiness she can normally show. Well, it's not like her usual expression diminishes her beauty any.  
  
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'...that's how the old saying goes.  
  
Reis is beautiful. There's just no argument about it. From her caramel eyes to her pale lips, from her long, silky golden hair to her willowy, graceful figure...she's just incredible. She doesn't even seem to realize just how amazing she is, which makes her even more attractive.  
  
What is it? Are we not going to lunch? She's giving me a weird look.  
  
Oh, right. Am I making you uncomfortable? I rise from my chair and walk over to her, standing just before her but not reaching out to her. Depending on her answer, we might not be going to lunch.  
  
Her face is mostly blank. I've figured out that it doesn't mean she's unhappy, but that she's probably talking to herself. I wish I could read her mind sometimes...she's not exactly the most talkative person. I'm a bit used to it, she smiles slightly, a lightness in her expression, her eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners.  
  
Suddenly, I'm not very hungry.  
  
I reach out to her, holding her loosely around the waist. Leaning into me, her hands move up along my arms as she looks up at me with an almost mischievous light in her eyes. Well, I guess I'll have to keep it up until you're completely used to it, and I grin inwardly when she closes her eyes and shakes her head slightly, a tiny dusting of pink appearing on her cheeks.  
  
But...door's open. And while there doesn't seem to be anyone around, I still kick the door closed first. We've had a few close calls in the past.  
  
Tilting my head a bit, I lean down a bit, closed lips landing right onto hers. I really like how she's tall enough that I don't have to lean over too much. Her hands clutch my upper arms as she returns the kiss. God, her lips are soft. Now, if I start opening my mouth...ah, there we go. She's...ending the kiss. Okay. I move my head up and open my eyes.  
  
What's with that look? Not really different than usual, except that her brows are furrowed a bit. Annoyed? What's wrong, love?  
  
She looks at me blankly for a moment before looking a bit sheepish. You're too sweet.  
  
...That's a sudden compliment. Not like I won't take it, of course. Bringing up my right hand from her waist to her face, I stroke her cheek gently and she smiles a bit. Not compared to you, I murmur, my thumb along her cheekbone.  
  
Now she looks confused, frowning slightly before her eyes light up. Oh, no, I mean... she shakes her head, looking up at me with a bashful expression, I mean, you taste too sweet.  
  
...Oh. And here I thought she'd picked up my habit of random compliments, all of them completely sincere. Reis has a low threshold for sweets and the like...oh well, no one's perfect. I grin. Sorry about that, I got a late start on my morning.  
  
Now she looks slightly concerned. Was it the early morning shift?  
  
No, not really, I just couldn't sleep last night, I was dreaming about the war again.  
  
I see... I see her eyes shift past me, towards my desk, but tea isn't normally sweet. How much sugar did you put in it?  
  
Hm... I'd say about three, four cubes or so?  
  
Her eyes flicker up at me. I think I said something wrong, judging by that grimace. I...I heard a week or so ago that it isn't healthy to consume a lot of sugar.  
  
Well, I wouldn't know, but... Reis, it isn't healthy for people to go to war either, I reply gently. Not like I don't appreciate the warning, but I've always liked sweet foods. And as much as I love her, this is not an issue we're going to get into.  
  
Well, that is true, of course, she smiles a bit sadly, and of course you can take care of yourself, but you spend so much time worrying about me that...I'd like to worry about you too.  
  
Oh...well...that's...that's really thoughtful of her. You don't have to worry about me, I lean over and kiss her on the forehead, slowly letting go of her, shall we go?  
  
She's got on that little smile of hers. Good.   
  
---  
  
Reis moves like how the Bariaus Valley river runs in the summer: consistently slow and steady, all the skirts of her dresses gently rippling with the movement. Amid the wives and children bustling around the main street, she's so blatantly calm that it's...strange.  
  
In Lesalia's shopping center during the spring and summer, musicians would play different songs depending on the season and day. I don't know why, but watching her walk next to me reminds me of a sleepy summer afternoon melody.  
  
...I like how that sounds.  
  
I'd tell her that, but I doubt she'd really understand beyond the words; I doubt the Church allows anything other than hymns to be played in Murond.  
  
That place looks good. I smile when she looks over at me, a question lurking in the depths of her eyes. I point out the plain-faced restaurant on the left side of the street, opposite of the walls of the town, let's go to that one.  
  
With her usual deliberate movements, she glances over at the direction I pointed at, then turns back to me and nods once. The two long locks beside her face sway with the movement, even as their ends curl and pool onto her chest. She's wearing one of those plain dresses that are common with...well, commoners. Green. Green and gold...that's interesting.  
  
We walk over to the restaurant and sit at one of the outdoor tables--September in Lionel is nice--and a waitress promptly hurries over and deposits our menus, then scurries away. I'm not really hungry...I guess I'll just have some more tea. Glancing across the table, I see that Reis has her menu directly in front of her, blocking her face. No fun there. Looking around, I see a couple of knights over at the south gate, looking bored. Seems like it's Hannison and Oyama...  
  
Are you ready to order? Oh, our waitress is back...hm, I think I've seen her before, on a couple occasions with Reis. Cute. I motion for Reis to order first, and she shows the inside of the menu to the waitress, pointing at something.  
  
Lemon tea and these biscuits, please, eh, too sour, thank you.  
  
She's always so polite. I hand my menu to the waitress. Regular tea with sugar, please, and the waitress nods and leaves.  
  
When I think about it, we've gone to every restaurant in this town. With me usually going in my uniform and Reis looking as beautiful as she always does, I'm sure we're easily noticeable.  
  
...We're not doing a very good job of hiding our relationship, are we?  
  
I guess I'm not really surprised that Buremonda didn't have a clue until that ball, though it is weird that he hasn't been trying to restrict Reis' movements more since then. He did expel one of his white mages...though I guess it was because of that whole situation. Still, he's always so suspicious. I would ask her what, if anything, he's said to her about me--all those damn lies he's so good at--but I don't want her to worry about it. She worries enough as is.  
  
Here's your tea sir, miss, our waitress places the delicate teacups on their saucers in front of us, as well as a small plate of biscuits, if you want anything else, please don't hesitate to ask!  
  
Thank you, I tell her, and she beams and shuffles away. When I first arrived in Lionel, it was a little unnerving at first to see how happy everyone seemed to be.  
  
Of course, they do have a reason.  
  
--crk--  
  
Hm? I watch as Reis holds two pieces of a once-whole biscuit in her hands, between thumb and forefinger, then she daintily dips the one in her left hand--her left, my right...right?--into her tea, tapping it against the lip of the cup a couple times before bringing it up to her mouth. It's all very proper and reminds me of all those lessons in manners and behavior that Sis and I endured so we could become proper little nobles.  
  
...Well, at least it worked out for one of us.  
  
Watching Reis go through these motions makes me think that she'd have made a very good noblewoman naturally.  
  
--_I want to climb this tree_--  
  
I've always liked that about her. She's so kind and polite, but she's also not easy to categorize. Not like I was ever good at that sort of thing, anyway. But I like that spark in her, that willingness to do unexpected things.  
  
--_I mean, I killed a behemoth. I've been looking for you...I can help you_--  
  
...Most of the time. I like it most of the time.  
  
Whatever she used to be...as far as I'm concerned, she's a civilian now. She shouldn't be risking herself...which begs the question of whose life is more important: hers, or one of my knights?'  
  
It's not a question I ever want to have to answer.  
  
Beowulf? Is something wrong? She's looking at me curiously...guess I was too into my thoughts. We only have less than an hour together before it's back to work for the both of us...best to just enjoy myself.  
  
I point at her plate of oblong biscuits. Can I have one of those?  
  
Of course, she smiles, take as many as you like.  
  
Thanks, love, I pluck two off the plate and her expression doesn't change. Hm, she must not be very hungry, you haven't been eating very much lately, well, since Bariaus Hill a few days ago, the two be related? are you okay?  
  
She pauses from bringing her cup up to her lips. I'm fine, she answers, looking slightly puzzled.  
  
Okay, let's try again. Are you sure? I mean, considering what you must being going through right now with yourself...are you really okay?  
  
I don't like pushing her for answers. It just seems so...invasive, and Sis taught me a long time ago not to be too pushy when women are concerned. But with Reis...she's just not very good with communication sometimes, though she is getting better.  
  
She's gone blank-faced. Guess I couldn't really expect smiles and eyes alight with happiness, huh? she lowers her gaze from me to her cup, I'm trying...I'm trying to accept it...and I mostly am, but...  
  
Hm. I don't like this... But what?  
  
...I just... she looks up at me, her eyebrows tightly drawn over her caramel eyes, whenever I bathe or change my clothes, I always have to see that scar. I always have to remember that I'm not... she stops suddenly, a stricken look marring her face. What...what is it? I don't like that constant reminder.  
  
Is there something I'm not getting here, or is this just because it's hard for her to get used to the idea that she's partly a dragon? Personally, as long as she's not a huge scaly lizard breathing fire and rampaging through the town, I couldn't really care less. And it explains that hearing of hers.  
  
Other than that...does it really matter?  
  
But I can sympathize. Oh, I can. Reis, I understand.  
  
She stares at me, something of a guarded expression crossing her face.   
  
I smile. I try to smile, anyway. I'm always reminded just by looking in the mirror every morning.  
  
It shouldn't bother me anymore. I left that life a long time ago. It's not important.  
  
There's a puzzled look on her face for a few moments before her eyes widen. she looks away from me, towards the restaurant. Maybe I shouldn't have said it like that...like I'm trying to put one foot over her situation. Even if I say that I don't care what she really is, if I were her I'd have a hard time accepting that anyway.  
  
I was born like this. I've always remembered.  
  
I wish Mum had loved me enough to decide to bring me back to life, no matter the consequences. Or maybe even just loved me.  
  
Not like it matters. That's all in the past anyway. Can't do anything about it now.  
  
I'm sorry.  
  
Huh? What for?  
  
She looks contrite. I shouldn't...I'm just complaining after the fact. At...at least I'm alive, right?  
  
I don't like where this is going. Reis, you have every right to speak what's on your mind. I was just trying to show that I understand how you feel.  
  
I told her once that I thought we were more alike that I had first thought. I could feel that. And that's a good thing. It's only a good thing that we can understand each other beyond the differences in our backgrounds, even if it's the painful feelings.  
  
her lips twitch upward and she shyly looks up at me, that's...thank you, Beowulf. That really helps...  
  
That's good, I smile and reach for my cup of tea...it's gone cold. Oh well. I crunch into one of the biscuits. Something's bothering me...something Reis might've said before...what was it...?  
  
--_Beowulf, there's something else I need to tell you_--  
  
Oh, right, that! I was overwhelmed by everything I heard that day, but that's no excuse. She looks up from her tea. Wasn't there something else you needed to tell me? I'd like to hear it now, if you don't mind.  
  
...I said something wrong. Nothing else could explain that...that look on her face. Reis isn't the most expressive person in the world. I've accepted this. She's getting better at it. I'm proud of her.  
  
She's never looked this blank before.  
  
It's like everything closed up. The curtains were drawn, the gates closed, the drawbridge up, everything.  
  
There's fear in her eyes.  
  
What...what's wrong?  
  
Finally a different expression makes itself known. Grim. Depressed. Not good. she looks at me hesitantly...I don't like that, you said that day, is this something that affects us right this moment in our lives?' Could I...I tell you when it does?  
  
...One step forward, two steps back. Definitely. The only thing I can do is agree.  
  
Is it really _that_ bad?  
  
Whenever you like, Reis.  
  
--_You're too nice, you know that Beo?_--  
  
It doesn't matter. I'm a patient man. I'll wait until Reis is ready.  
  
We've got plenty of time.  
  
-----  
  
(Act 2: The Woman Who Floats On Kindness)  
  
I don't have a very good memory about most things, I'll freely admit that. Too many bad memories cluttering up my head and blocking out the useful things, I suppose. Lately, I've been feeling that I've forgotten something...but I don't know what it is.  
  
Oh well, it'll come to me eventually...even though I've been saying that for the last couple of days now.  
  
I enter the barracks, done with my shift. Everybody else scattered off because it's only one in the afternoon, but I picked up some sweets so I can work at my desk. Hm, nobody's here? Great, no distractions. I walk to my office and settle into my chair...what's this? A letter from Sis...?  
  
That's what I forgot! I wasn't feeling up to reading anything that could be potentially depressing after that lunch with Reis a few days ago, so I just put it aside...which isn't saying much with this desk. Well, I might as well read it now. Opening the envelope, I take out the single sheet of paper and unfold it.  
  
_Dear Beowulf,  
  
How are you doing, little brother? It's bleak and cloudy here, yet the autumn rains haven't fallen yet. I'm wishing for them to come already, as the children have taken to running around our end, prompting Lady Matterson from across the lane to complain that my children are corrupting her children...but of course her children' are 15 and 17 respectively, so I have decided that she is just someone who needs to blame others for her hired nanny's poor parenting skills. Caitlyn wished to write a note to Sir Uncle', but to mail it separately from my letter, so you should expect that in the next week or so.  
  
I personally was quite surprised to read the contents of your last letter, especially regarding your Miss Dular. I wouldn't be a good sister unless I asked for more information about her, would I? Considering that your birthday is next month, I was starting to think you hopeless as far as marriage went, especially since you've never been in a relationship before--at least, you haven't told me if you have. But you have your secrets and I have mine. You mentioned that this woman also worked for the Church, albeit a different sector than your own, but I'm more interested in the kind of person she is. Although you said that she is a kind and reserved person, you should also watch that she doesn't take advantage of your status. A friend of Sean's was recently swindled by such a woman. Of course, he is like my husband, so I would say that he deserved it, but you don't, so please watch out.  
  
I'll be looking forward to your reply, my dear brother.  
Amelia_  
  
...Oh, right, I'll definitely watch out and make sure that Reis doesn't take advantage of me and make off with my money.  
  
Is it just me, or is everybody too suspicious nowadays?  
  
Sis probably has a good reason to though, considering she just wants me to be happy, unlike her and her husband. I never did understand the practice of pairing up two people within the same noble ranking just for the sake of producing high-quality children'...  
  
She always sounds sad now. I think I'll send her something with my next letter so she can feel more appreciated.  
  
...I wonder if Reis knows how much I appreciate her? She seems more depressed than usual lately, and I'm fairly sure some of it has to do with me. I had said I'd wait for her to tell me, but in the meanwhile I'll try and get her mind off of worrying too much.  
  
Yeah, that does sound like a good idea. What should I buy for her, then?  
  
Well, I could give her that outfit I bought with Miss Koizumi's help...no, I don't think I'll do that right now. Hm. Sis likes jewelry, so I'll buy her earrings or to think of it, I've never seen Reis wear anything like that. With all of her money going into buying cloth and thread, it makes sense. Alright, I'll buy her a piece of jewelry too.  
  
The front door opens, and everybody starts pouring in, loudly talking amongst themselves. I'm not going to get any work done now, so I might as well go to the accessory shop. Folding the letter, I place it back in its envelope, taking it with me when I walk over to my bunk. My things are stashed underneath Chiroseau's bunk because he has the bottom one. Where's my money...here it is. I peel off a good chunk of the roll of paper gil--I hate using coin gil because it gets obvious that you're carrying a lot on you--and put the sheaf of cash into my pants pocket. That should be enough.  
  
I'm not too worried about spending too much, it's all inheritance money'--well, Mum never bequeathed anything to me, but Sis gave me half of her inheritance. Lately I've had to dip into it a few times to pay everybody on time. It's okay because I don't need much anyway. I've never collected on my salary either.  
  
I'm not interested in blood money.  
  
Hey Sir Kadmus, where are you going? Yuil calls from his bunk as I start for the door. I turn slightly, eyes still on the door.  
  
To the accessory shop, what time do they close, I wonder?  
  
Oh, getting a ward made or something? Can you pick up something that protects from petrify? I almost got turned into a statue by one of those monsters from the hill.  
  
Oh, uh... Riola sounds sheepish, that was Cherise, Alia's pet. Sorry.  
  
What?! I nearly got turned into a statue and all you can say is   
  
Better clear it up before I'm stuck buying accessories for everyone. No, I'm going to buy some jewelry for my sister and Reis.  
  
...Why is it so quiet of all a sudden?  
  
I look around the room, and everybody's...staring at me. Great, now I sound defensive. Is there something wrong about buying presents or something?  
  
So...so, you're gonna propose? Navarro asks quietly.  
  
...'Jewerly'... 'propose'...those words don't sound alike. Why are you asking?  
  
You should definitely wait.  
  
Yeah, wait until Examiner Draclau comes back. A couple months won't kill you.  
  
Nah, next month's fine.  
  
Maybe for you.  
  
My eyes narrow. Oh, this isn't suspicious. Sure, anyway, I'll be back in an hour or so, and I quickly make my way out of the barracks, shutting the door behind me. There's a knight out here, sitting next to the door. Smoke curls from a thin roll of paper in his mouth. Correl used to smoke those things back in Bervenia...it's a cheap substitute for a pipe or something, I say in greeting, and he glances over at me, then takes the roll out of his mouth.  
  
  
  
Adderent is interesting. I transferred him over from Goug a year ago, but he has no discernible accent. He doesn't seem to care about anything, but he's supposedly supporting a wife and kid in Gariland. The only thing I really care about is that he's almost always late to his shift. Well, if he doesn't care about anything, then maybe he's the best person to talk to... What's a good piece of jewelry to buy for a girlfriend?  
  
He sighs.   
  
What is with this connection everybody else is getting? What does jewelry have to do with proposing?  
  
Don't expect you to understand, bein' a noble an' all, he takes a drag on his roll and I inwardly sigh. I'm sick of hearing that.  
  
--_You really are like every other noble, aren't you?_--  
  
You, of all people, didn't have to say it like that...  
  
Enlighten me, then, I mutter, my nose involuntarily twitching from the lingering smoke.  
  
Most of us are commoners, y'see, so we slave away for a pittance. When anyone says that they're getting jewelry, it means that they're splurging all their money to give a gift of proposin' to their loved one, his dark eyes slide over to me again,   
  
Oh, I didn't realize...hm. Ah. Well, no, I'm not, not like I'm adverse to the idea.  
  
I've thought about it a bit lately, but...  
  
Hmph. Just playin' around, huh?  
  
Not at all, I snap. I wouldn't...I would never toy with anyone's feelings.  
  
--_Hey, Beo...do you like me?_--  
  
Never.  
  
He coughs, the hand over his mouth looking as if he were protecting the roll instead of stifling his cough, then leans back against the wall of the barracks. Hmph. If you're confused, then save yer money.  
  
I'm not confused. I love Reis, I just... I've only known her for five months.  
  
So? Chiroseau got married after one.  
  
Hn. And she left him, too.  
  
Yeah, there's always that risk, he crushes the roll in his hand against the ground, snuffing out the smoke, that's how life is.  
  
Don't I know it. Why is everyone trying to convince me not to propose until later?  
  
'Cause no one there set a bet for September.  
  
Why am I not surprised? Everyone complains that they don't get paid enough, yet...well, they can do whatever they want. I'm tempted to ask which month everyone's betting on just to avoid doing anything then, but...no. I'll act on my on time, he doesn't say anything as I start to walk away, and remember, your shift is at seven today, not like that would really matter to him or anything.  
  
--dingdingdongdingding--  
  
It's already...three? I should hurry.  
  
One of the best things about this town is that it's big--the largest in Lionel if you don't count all the drifts in Goug--but fairly contained. The layout is simple and every street will lead both ways. Nothing like sprawling Lesalia, where dead-ends are on top of dead ends. Of course there are some extraneous areas here, but at least I can get to the shopping area quickly enough.  
  
I met Reis this way, while I was trying to trod through the town and into the valley. She was chasing a thief who'd stolen her luggage and I can't help but wonder what she would've done had I not been there, hurrying through the alley in that annoying armor and mentally cursing out Buremonda for not telling me things at the appropriate time.  
  
Considering all the things she's done since then, I think she would've been fine.  
  
I wonder if she needs me?  
  
I wasn't looking to fall in love. It wasn't something I particularly cared about at the time...hadn't really for a long time. I was just looking for reasons to keep staying, to convince myself that being a Temple Knight was really the best option.  
  
If Reis stays here, then I will too.  
  
But...marriage? Well, I've been thinking about it. Just the idea of settling down and raising a family here. She'd make an excellent mother...it seems that's what she was raised to become. She's a beautiful bundle of contradictions and I haven't felt so happy...ever.  
  
What we have is more than I could've ever expected, so why change everything now?  
  
Now, where's the accessory shop...oh, there it is. It's plainer than the general store, which sells everything from weapons and armor to accessories and curative items, but the selection is better. I grasp the handle and pull the door open, taking measured steps inside the poorly-lit store. A woman stands behind the counter...she looks like she's from the Eastern Lands. Welcome! Are you looking for anything in particular today?  
  
Ah, yes, I walk up to the counter. There aren't any items out on display...I guess they don't trust in the relative security afforded by us, earrings for my sister and something nice for my girlfriend.  
  
The light in the room is streaming in from a few windows above the door, landing directly on the young woman's face and lighting up her expression of excitement. Huh. Oh, is that so, sir? Is there anything specific that you want?  
  
...I don't know. Ah...I doubt she has had holes poked through her ears, so no on earrings...and I don't know any other kind of jewelry. Sis favors earrings. Could you show me a few different kinds of pieces? Wow, that almost sounds like I know what I'm doing.  
  
Of course, sir! The young woman turns around, long black hair flying behind her as she runs to the back of the store. I lean a bit on the counter and glance around at the squalid conditions.  
  
That lady seemed really happy. Maybe she hasn't had a customer in awhile.  
  
Alright, sir, she strides back up to the counter, holding out her hands. There's a sheet of paper in them, with various shiny things. Laying it onto the counter, she arranges each piece quickly, then stands back, and what color would you like for the earrings?  
  
I look down onto all the glittering things on the counter. That's...that's intimidating. Green, please.  
  
We have some jade earrings in stock, sir. Shall I show them to you? I nod. Jade...well, if it's green, that's good enough. Okay, is there anything here that sticks out as something Reis-like'? Gold, gold, gold...it's too showy. Reis is understated and reserved.  
  
In the center of all the gold pieces, there's a silver...um, bracelet? Yeah, that's what it's called. A delicate silver bracelet with three blue stones set in a line down the center. From all of her different outfits, I've gathered that she likes blue. Then...this should be fine, I think.  
  
There's a small tag on it. 7-0-0-0'...?  
  
What?  
  
...That...that can't be the price. There are many swords for cheaper. There are lots of pieces of armor for cheaper. And those do things. What does this bracelet do other than look shiny?  
  
But she would look nice with it...  
  
Hn.  
  
The lady comes back, holding out a small square of paper in her hands. Here you are, sir, jade earrings for four hundred gil, she places them on the counter. They look nice, little flowers carved out of a pale green stone. Four hundred is acceptable... have you found something you liked, sir?  
  
Feeling a little wary, I point at the silver bracelet. That one, miss.  
  
Oh, that certainly is nice! That'll be seven thousand gil, plus the four hundred for the earrings.  
  
Okay, let's see if I can't... Excuse me, miss, but does this bracelet actually do anything?  
  
She stares at me oddly. Do anything, sir?  
  
Well, like an accessory. Accessories can prevent a variety of attacks that harm the mind and the body, I smile as she nods slowly, that's why people are willing to buy them. So, what does this bracelet do?  
  
It...well, sir, it enhances the beauty of a woman, provided she is wearing an outfit that matches the color of the piece.  
  
I raise an eyebrow at this. But my girlfriend already is extraordinarily beautiful, so it's kind of unnecessary. Besides, she's also the practical sort, and she really likes things that are useful in some way. So, it doesn't do anything else?  
  
The young woman shakes her head. I'm sorry sir, but no.  
  
Oh, so I'll have to be the one to bind a spell onto it, then. I see. Then, it really isn't worth anything more than a thousand, don't you think?  
  
Excuse me, sir, she looks very annoyed now...sorry, don't you think that's a little too low?  
  
Perfect. 'A little too low' ...then you agree with me that it's probably worth only fifteen hundred, then?  
  
she says blandly, five thousand is what I can offer, and that's really too low. Silver is rare in my home country, and Ivalice has that ban on metal being used for anything but weaponry. This is a bracelet made a few years into the war. It's practically an antique at over forty years since its creation.  
  
Alright... I understand, but you're charging me enough to eat out at the nice restaurants for at least two months. I'm just a knight employed by the Church. Can I have it for two thousand?  
  
She sighs. Four thousand. The stones set in it are lapis lazuli, which are semi-precious stones.  
  
That's great, I think. Three thousand and we have a deal, miss.  
  
Shaking her head a little, she looks up at me with an irritated expression. I'm not used to women looking at me like that, unless it's Sis... And you really won't buy it for any higher, will you?  
  
I nod. It's certainly nice and I could've afforded the original price, but I don't think it's worth that much. Besides, Reis doesn't seem to like that I insist on always paying for her--which is the right thing to do--and would be pretty annoyed if she learned that I spent that much on her.  
  
Well then, your total is three thousand four hundred gil, sir, I count out four thousand and hand it to her, oh, you overpaid... she tries to give back some of the money, but I smile and shake my head.  
  
Thank you for putting up with me, she wasn't looking very happy throughout most of the bargaining, so it's only fair that I pay her for labor as well.  
  
She smiles back before placing the pieces of jewelry into separate boxes and handing them to me. Thank you, sir, and please come again!  
  
Back outside, I can see the sun about ready to descend in the west. There's also a nice restaurant in that direction as well.  
  
Hm...  
  
---  
  
I yawn as I go through some miscellaneous paperwork; that is, I haven't a clue what it's for, but it's probably best that I sign it anyway.  
  
knoknok  
  
There's no one in here but me, since it's just a little before one. Hm, maybe it's Reis? That'd be great, considering I can't very well go into the church library and tell her I made reservations for dinner tonight...  
  
I walk over to the front of the barracks and open the door. Oh, that's not Reis. Looks like her, but this is...this is Miss Mikner. I remember. Good afternoon, Miss Mikner. Can I help you with something?  
  
Oh, uh... she smiles nervously up at me. She's holding a basket, is Sammy around?  
  
... Sammy'? Oh...that would be Riola. No, he has his shift until one, hm, it'd be rude to send her away, would you like to wait here for him?  
  
Sure, thanks, I move aside and she walks past me, sitting on Riola's bunk. I should go back to my work, but...it'd be rude to just leave her alone.  
  
Alright, so I don't want to do any work either.  
  
So, how is your cousin doing? After that day, which has been cataloged as The Birthday Incident', Mikner was moved over to her house to recuperate in peace. From what I heard from the head of the white mages, they wouldn't have been able to save him had he not turned...and had Reis not been there to kill off the behemoth so they could get to him.  
  
What did she get for it? Other than a broken wrist that she tried to hide from me, I mean.  
  
And yet, she kept on going.  
  
She's brave, isn't she?  
  
Oh, you can have him back next week, Miss Mikner looks annoyed now, he's well enough to complain, so he's well enough to go back to work.  
  
Well, that's good to hear...I think. Her expression is making me think otherwise. Oh, thank you for taking him in. We're not exactly very good at taking care of people around here, she smiles and giggles at this.  
  
Neither am I, but he's family, she looks up at me, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes almost as bright as her smile, Sammy told me that it was because of you and Miss Reis that the whole town was saved. That's true, right? Cause, I thought it was hella weird that none of the townspeople seem to know that.  
  
She talks like her cousin... Well, it's the Order's job to protect the town.  
  
casually, she tosses back her long hair with one hand, I didn't realize you were training your girlfriend to become a knight.  
  
I'm not, I mutter. I don't like this subject... she acts on her own volition.  
  
Miss Mikner tilts her head slightly. She really isn't the typical civilian woman, huh?  
  
Not at all. That's one of her best qualities, I say lightly. Why are we talking about this? Eh, better than working.  
  
Oh, wow, that's pretty cool, y'know, that she's not just a subservient woman with a tacked-on pretty face, ...I think that's a compliment, it must be hard though, hiding your relationship and all.  
  
I shrug. No, not really. I think we even appreciate each other more because of it, she's smiling so widely...she seems to be a very happy person. Riola's pretty lucky, especially since she's not connected with the Church in any way...wait. I wonder if she'd do a favor for me, Miss Mikner, if you don't mind, is there any way you can pass along a message to Reis for me?  
  
Oh, sure!  
  
Great. I quickly walk over to my office, and with one cursory glance I find a blank piece of paper. Pen, pen, here it is. Let's see...  
  
_Reis,  
  
I've missed you. Would you like to go to dinner tonight? 7 tonight, usual meeting place._  
  
Nice and concise. I almost wrote dress nice', but asking Reis to dress nicely would be like telling the sun to shine. Going back to Miss Mikner, I hand her the note, which she takes with a grin. Thank you, Miss Mikner, I say warmly.  
  
No problem, she gets off of the bunk and heads towards the door, nearly colliding with Riola, who was opening the door, hey Sammy, lunch is on your bed! Have as much as you want!  
  
Well, now that that's taken care of, onto the second part...  
  
---  
  
Accessories, armor, and weapons can be imbued with certain magic in order to repel or inflict a certain kind of spell effect. It's a fairly easy process: write the sigil of the magic type four times in a diamond shape, then place the object to be imbued inside the shape and cast the specific spell on each of the four sigils. The process can only be done once, and if it doesn't work the first time, that item can never be used for the bonding process again.  
  
Simple enough. Now, if I could only remember how this sigil was supposed to be written...  
  
Kadmus, what are you doing?  
  
Oh, Chiroseau. Just trying out your typical spell-bonding ritual, I don't raise my head from the paper on my desk where I've written out the four sigils...that really doesn't look right.  
  
Everybody's wondering if you're going to propose or not, he states, but it seems too soon for you to act.  
  
Why's that? Is that line supposed to be up, or down?  
  
No real reason. Seems like it was just yesterday when you mentioned in passing that you understood why Buremonda wanted that cataloger' so badly.  
  
I refrain from making a comment, because then we'll start talking about that guy and that'll just ruin my concentration. Does the time magic sigil have a line at the top going up from left to right, or going down?  
  
Chiroseau walks over to my desk and peers at my designated casting area. Neither, that's white or black magic. It's at the sides running downward for time. You're not bonding something weird like Meteor, are you?  
  
I laugh. Time magic is so varied. What would that do, protect Reis from the random falling meteorite?  
  
It could happen. What are you trying to do?  
  
You'll see.  
  
Finishing the sigils, I carefully place the bracelet inside them. I never was very fond of time magic, but I gleaned a few spells in the small amount of time I studied as a time mage. I like learning bits and pieces of everything, because you never know if something will be helpful.  
  
Okay...  
  
In quick succession I cast the spell onto the four sigils, each of them faintly shimmering in response. When I cast the fourth spell, the lights converge into a point above the center, bathing the bracelet with the spell momentarily before dissipating. I glance up at Chiroseau's interested face. Want to test it out?  
  
he raises a gloved hand, pointing at the bracelet. A flicker of lightning arches from his finger to the center stone of the jewelry. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, the bracelet glows and reacts, rising up to about the top of the tallest stack of paperwork.  
  
Perfect.  
  
---  
  
Caught in the warm glow of the candlelight, Reis' face has a soft glow as she smiles at me. Well, you are right that the application of magic is certainly useful in day-to-day chores, but there are some things that are better done by hand, she picks up her glass of water with her left hand and takes a small sip from it. We're done with dinner, and we've just been talking about a variety of things.  
  
The box is in my right pants pocket, just waiting to be revealed.  
  
What would those things be, love? Should I give it to her now?  
  
She looks thoughtful as she brushes back the locks of hair framing her face. Ah...anything that can be done with our own hands. If we learn to depend solely on magic use, we might forget how to do things without it.  
  
Now? Oh, I see. That's true.  
  
the look of curiosity is striking on her face, all of her interest pointing directly at me, what do you think, Beowulf?  
  
Now.  
  
I think there are definitely some things that can only be done without aid from a spell, I take a deep breath and pull the box out of my pocket, reaching out and placing it directly in front of her.  
  
Please, let her just accept it. I paid good money for it.  
  
She looks at me blankly for a moment before looking down at the box. It's a plain box, a brown rectangular object, not very interesting...can't she just open it? With both her hands, she pulls off the lid, eyes going very wide. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? W-what is this? Her words are rushed and breathless. Is _that_ a good thing or a bad thing?  
  
It's something I thought would look nice on you, why is she still blank-faced? Reis, try it on.  
  
Her eyes flicker up at me. she looks down into the box again, then a small frown crosses her face. What's that for? 'Seven thousand'... she turns the box around so that the contents are facing me, and points to the end of the bracelet.  
  
There's a small tag there, proudly blaring its original price.  
  
7,000.'  
  
Oh. Of course I'd have the time to place a spell on it, but not to remember to take off the damn tag.  
  
Beowulf...I can't...I mean, it's too much... she trails off, looking...I don't know.  
  
I knew she'd react like this if she knew the original price. Dammit. Let's go take a walk, I say softly, putting down the appropriate amount of money on top of the slip of paper the waitress had left there a while ago. I stand and Reis follows, silently making our way out of the nearly-empty restaurant.  
  
We wander through the tiny streets until we reach an empty area surrounded by abandoned buildings, on the west side of town. There's a chunk of a broken wall next to one of the buildings, which I head towards and sit down on. After a slight hesitation she sits down on my right, the box in her hands on her lap.  
  
I might as well start off with the question of the night. Turning a bit to face her, I take in her mostly-blank expression. Why won't you take it, Reis? So it was a bit pricey...but I still bought it anyway. What good is money if you can't spend it on the people you love?  
  
...It's a lot of money, her voice is lower than usual, and in the night it seems to take on a haunting quality, it's too much to spend, especially on me...  
  
I only paid three thousand for it, I try to sound cheerful, but she merely looks at me.  
  
That's still a lot of money.  
  
And it was worth every gil, I counter. Is there another reason why she's not just accepting it? don't you like it?  
  
She looks down, fiddling with the box almost nervously. Well, yes, it's very pretty, but it's so much money...  
  
Yeah, well, I won't exactly argue with that. You're worth it, I put my arm around her shoulder and kiss her lightly on her temple, moving my lips down to her ear, it'd make me very happy if you would just accept it.  
  
Please just take it. I put a lot of thought into this gift and return rates are horrendous.  
  
Making a small noise, she keeps her head down. You're so nice, she murmurs, but it doesn't exactly sound like a compliment.  
  
--_You're too nice_--  
  
What am I supposed to say to that? I'm sorry love, I'll try to be meaner next time'? Is that a bad thing?  
  
--_Yeah, it kinda is_--  
  
She looks up at me, the moonlight putting a softer glow on her face than the candlelight in the restaurant. ...I feel...I feel as if I'm not doing enough for you, she looks down again, tapping the box lightly with one of her slender fingers, you're always so kind to me, always listening, always understanding...and all I do is just burden you with my problems.  
  
...Huh. As much as I love her, she is amazingly negative about herself sometimes. I actually like that...that you're willing to trust me enough to tell me what's bothering you, most of the time... I like being needed.  
  
I'm not used to it, but I'm liking it a lot.  
  
It's nice to be wanted.  
  
--_Do you like me, Beo?_--  
  
It's even better to be wanted for more than just a temporary replacement.  
  
Reis murmurs, placing her hand on my thigh as she looks up at me, I still...well, if there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask.  
  
...  
  
...I want...to not take that the way I want it to mean. After what happened last time... Oh, so then you'll put on the bracelet, right? I smile. She sighs and smiles back, then takes her hand off my leg in order to carefully pick up the bracelet.  
  
Ah...oh well.  
  
With a nimbleness that she rarely demonstrates, she clicks the bracelet around her right wrist. Her smile is pale in the moonlight as she holds up her arm vertically, letting the silver chain tumble down a fourth of her forearm before settling comfortably. How does it look? She asks shyly. She sounds so cute when she's like that...and she often is.  
  
It looks great, Reis, just like I thought it would, I stand up, holding out my hand to her. She's going to love this... I want to show you something.  
  
With no hesitation she takes my hand, following me to the center of the barren area. Once there, I stand in front of her, holding up her right arm between us. I don't even need to concentrate to cause a flicker of ice magic to fly from my fingers onto the bracelet. Confused, she glances at me when the chain starts to faintly glow.  
  
Then she begins to float upward.  
  
Beowulf, what...? Her eyes are wide as she frantically grabs at me. I hold her hands and entwine our fingers together just as she stops, her chin right up to my nose. Looking a little worried, she looks down at the ground beside her in a very deliberate manner, then she slowly raises her head until her eyes meet mine. Even though it's mostly dark, her eyes are still arguably her best feature. For a long moment we stare into each other's eyes.  
  
Slowly, she begins to smile.  
  
This isn't one of her normal little upturning of her lips, though I would've been satisfied with that. No, this is one of her extremely rare smiles, with her mouth open just wide enough to let white teeth shine through, her eyes wide with wonderment. The best part is that she's not hiding it this time, so taken in with her current status. I don't understand...how did you do this?  
  
The best answer is usually the simplest. I hold up our linked hands, should I let you go now?  
  
...Will I fall? She asks, her smile tampering down. Well, it was nice while it lasted.  
  
I won't let you, I whisper, and she suddenly giggles,   
  
I remember, she nods, I trust you.  
  
...Oh, right, our first trip to the valley. It feels like such a long time ago, but it was just this last May. To hear her say that so casually...she's really changed, hasn't she? And I trust you, I lightly squeeze her hands and she smiles again.  
  
...When you say magic', you mean that there's a spell on this bracelet, right? She looks curiously down at me.  
  
I nod. I didn't think she'd figure that out, but I guess she just knows what an ice spell looks like. I put a float spell on it hours ago, I grin, there's some things that people can't do without magic.  
  
somehow she manages to close the distance between us, bending her head over me in such a way that her hair--not just those two locks--spills over me. Her lips are against my left ear, the soft skin of her cheek pressed against the side of my face, I don't know about that.  
  
I wonder what she's getting at? why's that?  
  
She lets go of my hands, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. It's pretty strange to not have to move my arms down to hold her around the waist, but I'll manage. I can feel her exhale softly. she sounds embarrassed, her voice its normal sweetly low tone, I was already floating...  
  
Where we are...it's definitely the best I've ever been in.

-End to part 1 of Interlude #2-

As the saying goes, college would be more fun if it weren't for the classes.  
  
-You'll note this is part one of Interlude #2. Originally I was going to have all four acts together, then I realized that each act was shaping up to be 17 pages each...  
  
- Wodring' is Rofel, one of the Shrine Knights and apparently their head negotiator or something, considering his few appearances in the game.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey Luna! Gee...I don't know what to say now when replying to a review from mid-January. Oh, I love dragons; I have a dragon pendant with a Celtic circle of protection around its neck that I absolutely love. As far as developing our mostly-happy couple's relationship...thank you very much, I am trying just a bit. I can't tell if I'm improving as a writer...  
  
The Burning Misery (now that's a descriptive name...though, wasn't it something else when you'd made your review?), thank you very much! It's not so much patience as it is blind determination to write up this story...or fanaticism, so you shouldn't be jealous. --; I've never played FFTA, as I don't have a GBA yet, but from what I've heard about the game, I'll stick with this game for now. Well, I do hope this continues to be one of your favorite stories, so I better keep on trying!  
  
Mavina...Arreat...I'm about ready to just say sod it all!' and call you Arrevina! Marreat? Hm, well...I can't read your review. Apparently, you can't use because it just cuts off your review. I'll wait to get your next review before I erase this one away, just so you can see for yourself. I've done it a few times in the past...  
  
Thank you for reading! I wonder if I have any readers left...? Well, if you have any questions or comments, I'd like to hear--read--them! And please, unrelated topics should be sent to my email address.  
  
Interlude #2 (part 2): That Person Just For Me: _Beowulf, you're wonderful. You're truly courageous_  
  
What is she seeing that I'm not?  
  
She's brave. I'm not. She does things because she can. I do things because it seemed to be a good idea at the time. She's a realist content in her life. I'm an optimist constantly looking for a better option. Her world is filled with as many colors as there are in the cloth shop.  
  
All I see is a world filled with different shades of grey.'


	24. Interlude 2, pt 2: Just For Me

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

I don't particularly care for myself very much.  
  
I've got my reasons, of course. I don't do things because they're the right things to do', I do them because I might as well. As long as it looks like the better life, I'll take it. For most of my life, I've only thought of myself first, even in the midst of battle.  
  
Some knight I am.  
  
--_Beowulf, you're wonderful. You're truly courageous_--  
  
What is she seeing that I'm not?  
  
She's brave. I'm not. She does things because she can. I do things because they seemed like good ideas at the time. She's a realist content in her life. I'm an optimist constantly looking for a better option. Her world is filled with as many colors as there are in the cloth shop.  
  
All I see is a world filled with different shades of grey.  
  
----------  
  
Interlude #2: That Person Just For Me  
(A Story Told In 4 Acts)  
  
(Part 2: Acts 3 and 4)  
  
(Act 3: The Better Option)  
  
I'm scared.  
  
I'm fourteen, a squire in the Lesalia Imperial Army. I'm not competent enough to go along with the invasion of Ordalia, thank God. But just as we invade them and tear down their villages, their lives, they've been crossing the Larner Channel and doing the same to us. Well, that's where I've been told they've been coming from.  
  
Even if I'm in my home region, I'm still scared.  
  
My boots are crunching into the November snow. My troop was called from Doguola Pass to investigate this small village on Lesalia's border. Another troop had fought a group of Ordalians here and we were sent to help finish them off.  
  
There's a lot of red snow here.  
  
With deep, measured breaths, I approach a house off of the center area by myself. Not enough of us to watch each other's backs. The door's half-broken off its hinges, but it looks better than some of the other houses.  
  
It looks safe.  
  
Nervously, I brush my hair out of my face, my other hand on the hilt of my sword. Kept it two years already. Nothing to be proud of, I use mostly magic anyway. Too scared to get up close. I take another deep breath before stepping over a bit of the door and entering the little house.  
  
There is a scent in the air, invasive with its seeping, mellow quality. So easily recognizable that I just swallow and move on inside in the place. Shouldn't be surprised at that scent, not when my nightmares are drenched in it.  
  
I stop.  
  
The sitting room is the first room. It connects with a tiny kitchen.  
  
There is a body in the kitchen.  
  
I swallow again, already feeling the bile rise from my stomach. Even if I've seen a lot of death already, that doesn't mean that I'm used to it. I don't ever want to get used to it. My legs move stiffly until I'm just about an arm's length away from the body.  
  
The girl.  
  
A pretty girl, if it weren't for the look of absolute terror on her face, eyes bulging and mouth gaping. Long brown hair is scattered everywhere. There's an ugly gash on her throat, large and frayed and red. Her dress is shredded almost everywhere, arms flung out and legs splayed and blood--  
  
I look away, a gloved hand on my throat as I look up, nearly frantic breaths rushing in and out as I try desperately not to vomit.  
  
She has the same hair color as Sis...  
  
...!?  
  
I sidestep the overhand swing of the sword as a man rushes out from deeper inside the house. He swings again in an arc and I lean back too far and fall over. He's screaming as he raises the sword over his head, preparing to cleave me in half and I'm scared, I'm so scared but the girl with Sis' hair is lying behind him and was she this scared, this absolutely horrified and if they make it to the capital will that be my Sis in that same position--  
  
_No._  
  
It doesn't hurt as much to use magic, not like it first did. Back then, my mind felt as if it were collapsing on itself. Now it's just a dull, rhythmic thudding as the air around the man's gloves, his gloves themselves are ravaged by thick, hungry flames. His screaming's of a different type as his sword harmlessly falls in front of him.  
  
I won't let this happen again.  
  
I've killed a few people the conventional way, with my sword. The dark blood tends to spray outward, staining me and my dreams at night. But you have to get up to a person to stab or slash at them, and most of the time they aren't just waiting for the deathblow. So I've devised a different way to kill. A nice, safe way.  
  
The knight looks panicked before he starts clawing at his torso with his charred hands. He collapses to his knees, falling over onto the floor as the flames begin to consume his insides. I can feel blood dripping down from my nose and I try to cut the fire spell off, with minimal success.  
  
I'm still alive.  
  
I sit up, knees up to my chest. The lingering scent of blood has been largely overrun by the sour stench of burning flesh emanating from the dead knight's mouth.  
  
What have I become? Deciding how to kill a person, a horrible person, but a human nonetheless in such a cruel way...  
  
The girl with Sis' hair is still silently screaming.  
  
I want to go home...  
  
---  
  
It's dark. I can hear someone, more than one person snoring.  
  
Lionel...right?  
  
I turn over onto my side, staring at the wall.  
  
I hate my memories. A lot of us do. Even now, sometimes I'll be wakened by a strangled cry. Sometimes it's someone else. Sometimes it's me. But we pretend that we never heard, and we vainly try to forget in this safe little region.  
  
We try.  
  
---  
  
Warjilis is a nice place. The scent of the sea, salty and relaxing, is just nice. A bit like Reis' scent, actually...  
  
This is really nice, Beowulf. Thank you for bring me here.  
  
I turn to her. She's smiling at me, the wind blowing her hair behind her. The wind seems stronger in this isolated little part of the beach. I'm glad you like too, Reis, I smile. With a glance towards the waves crashing before us, she looks over at me with a question in her eyes, what is it?  
  
she blushes a bit. God, she's cute like that, I want to go swimming, but I don't know how. Can you teach me?  
  
Of course, but... Our clothes will weigh us down in the water, love, though, when I was a kid I'd just strip down, but now, well...  
  
though her face is blank, she sounds vaguely disappointed. Hm, probably shouldn't have said anything. Her hands go up to her shoulders, where the straps of her dress end in knots to hold up her dress. I've never claimed to understand her interesting fashions, though I'm sure this one isn't a job class uniform.  
  
With a slow, deliberate movement, she loosens the knot on her left shoulder. The front tie falls forward, causing half of the front of her dress to hang precariously off her breast.  
  
...Um, what is she doing? I don't mind, but...   
  
--_tptptp_--  
  
Well, I... the blush on her cheeks darken, contrasting with her light skin, but with that little smile on her face, it doesn't seem so innocent... it sounds like fun to go into the water. Unless... the smile drops off her face as she stares at me curiously, you don't want to? It's probably cold out there...  
  
--_tptptp_--  
  
...? Anyway, go swimming? Oh, I want to, I say quickly. Her look doesn't change,   
  
She shakes her head slightly. Are you sure you won't get a cold? It probably won't affect me, but since you're not like me...  
  
--_tptptp_--  
  
Where is that coming from? This is a beach...eh, doesn't matter. I place my hand on her right shoulder, affectionately stroking the bare skin around the knot. A little cold won't kill me, and anyway, I grin at her, aren't you going to warm me up?  
  
She giggles. then she looks at my hand, oh, did you want to undo that one?  
  
--_tptptp_--  
  
That's getting on my nerves. Ah, okay, oh good, my voice sounded normal. I bring up my other hand to loosen the knot...why was this so easy for her but not for me? --_tptptp_-- But finally the thing loosens, and I pull my hands away just as the front part of the dress falls --_tptptp_-- into her lap, exposing --_tptptp_-- her chest and it --_tptptp_-- looks as good --_tptptp_-- as it feels and --_tptptp_-- I'd be enjoying this a lot --_tptptp_-- more if that damn --_tptptp_-- noise would just stop...  
  
---  
  
I don't bother to open my eyes. I was having a good dream, I mutter, shifting slightly in my hunched-over position on my desk. My right arm, which was my pillow, feels numb...  
  
Those are the rare ones, aren't they? Chiroseau's voice sounds out, and I sigh. If he's here, it's probably for a good reason. I sit up, brushing back a few strands of hair from my eyes. Most of the paperwork on my desk is gone, taken over to the castle instead of Buremonda. Draclau probably needs to look at all of that anyway. Chiroseau has my Goug-made pen in his hand. So that's where that noise had come from.  
  
I shrug. I suppose. Is there something you needed?  
  
Absently twirling the pen about, he nods. I was wondering when you were going to pay all of us who had worked on restoring the town, considering that you offered a sizable bonus.  
  
Money is a very good motivator, I've noticed. I was pretty much the only knight who didn't work on clearing up some of the more damaged areas from The Birthday Incident', mainly because I was dealing with the townspeople's complaints. Nobody died, and nobody was very grateful either. Oh, right, that, and since there's no money out of the allocation the Church gives us for bonuses, this is coming out of my inheritance, is tonight okay?  
  
That's faster than I expected, Chiroseau says, looking a bit surprised, thank you.  
  
Sir Kadmus, Oyama walks into my office, starting slightly when he notices Chiroseau, oh, excuse me, I didn't realize there was a meeting going on.  
  
I shake my head. Don't worry about it, we were just talking, while Reis is definitely the most polite person I've ever known, Oyama could conceivably compete with her for that title, what is it?  
  
Oh, uh, well, on Thursday I have the afternoon shift and I'd like to change it, if that's not a problem.  
  
Hn. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, with today being Monday and well within the three days' notice I need to change the schedule. However, Riola and the now-healthy Mikner also had that shift and wanted to change out of it too. Half the people on a shift trying to switch out of it is annoying to move around. Is something going on that day? It's a little suspicious.  
  
Oyama nods, eyes widening. Yes, the singing princess Anna is arriving.  
  
...Who? Should I know her?  
  
Oyama frowns a bit, she's really famous in Lionel. In fact, she lives in Warjilis. Her full name is Anna Belane.  
  
Warjilis? Belane?  
  
--_You don't understand! Those aligned with Glabados could never begin to understand!_--  
  
That wouldn't be... She...she wouldn't happen to have been the daughter of the mage Tellah, would she?  
  
I wouldn't know--  
  
Yes, she was, Chiroseau states, giving me an odd look, and he died about three years ago, if I remember correctly.  
  
--_Heretic?! How am I harming your precious faith by simply believing in another?_--  
  
Hn. Well, I'll let you know about your schedule tomorrow, I say to Oyama, and he helpfully takes the hint and leaves with a murmured word of thanks. Placing my pen down on my desk, Chiroseau walks toward the door. Good, I'd like to be alone right now.  
  
Instead he closes it and faces me. One of yours?  
  
--_If you say you aren't as corrupt as they are, why are you doing this?_--  
  
I nod slightly. My first.  
  
I had thought it would end...  
  
he takes in a deep breath, still standing in front of the door, does Miss Reis know the full scale of what a Temple Knight does?  
  
I'm sure she knows the definition.  
  
_Holy knight which protects the Church from heathens.'_  
  
Protects...? What heathens? The faith is carried on in varying amounts in about ninety-nine percent of Ivalice. They just want a nice, round number.  
  
They're never satisfied.  
  
He nods at this. Knowing him as long as I have, I know this means that he'll pry into it later. I don't usually care... he starts, sounding nonchalant, will you be attending Miss Anna's arrival with Miss Reis?  
  
I guess she's here to sing some pretty songs. Reis liked Miss Koizumi, so...I don't really have a choice. She'll most likely want to go, yeah.  
  
now he looks troubled, I thought this relationship was supposed to be hidden?  
  
Well...by all accounts it should be if I don't want Buremonda bothering me, but he bothers me about everything else anyway. And besides, she looks happy just meeting up for lunch... At first.  
  
Chiroseau sighs at this. That would explain the poor job of it, then, yes, I realized that when Buremonda screamed at me about corrupting his' cataloger a couple days after that ball. It's too bad I resisted throwing a fire spell in his face, but I know he would've reflected it right back, but what about Miss Reis? She has to work for that priest, you know.  
  
Dammit, I know. I don't particularly like the fact that I practically have to thank him for transferring her over. I don't think he'll do anything to her, and I don't. He wouldn't be able to justify her transfer to Murond if he gave her an official reprimand, and he can't fire her either, what with the fact that she's a ward and directly under the High Priest's command.  
  
Although...I'd like to see him try and do something to me. I've got a couple questions about where most of the Church funds are going, seeing as they didn't seem to appear when the town needed to be fixed up.  
  
Well, I'll take your word for it, I really like how he said that in such an unconvincing tone, but is it really such a good idea to go see this singer, all things considering?  
  
Considering what, that I murdered the singer's father because he was just some old man raving about the injustices of the Church and that there are whales capable of flying to the moon? If Reis wants to go, I'll go with her, talking about all of this is irritating, to say the least.  
  
He nods at this, though definitely not in agreement. It's silent for a bit. Good. There's a reason why I needed that money soon, he sounds older than he looks all of a sudden.  
  
Why's that? I ask out of politeness.  
  
He smiles a bit. Gariland Magic Academy has a horribly high tuition, but Aimee wants to go to one of the schools, so I want to send her to the best one in the country.  
  
...I remember that Aimee is his daughter, but... Isn't that the school for Hokuten knights?  
  
Yes. I'm surprised you would know, I'm surprised I know too, just about as surprised that his daughter would want to become a knight, especially since Bervenia's standing right next to the war, she wants to become a Shrine Knight. More specifically, she wants to become a Temple Knight.  
  
What? And you're just going to let her? When I have a child, I'll make sure that kid will never, ever get involved with the Church, especially as one of their soldiers. For an institution espousing such high values like love and forgiveness, it's a bit surprising to realize that the Shrine Knights are comparable to the Tens.  
  
I don't want her to, of course, but she's old enough to make her own decisions about her life, now he sounds uncomfortable, I'm just happy that she has such strong faith in the Church.  
  
Faith? She'd do better as a regular Hokuten instead of with those hypocrites, mouthing words of forgiveness and love even while they have us cut down their detractors...I hate it.  
  
But I can't leave. I can't find a better option.  
  
I'm the biggest hypocrite of all.  
  
Even with your status, those are dangerous words to say, Chiroseau stares at me coldly, I don't particularly like everything our job demands, but I have children to take care of. The teachings have allowed me, my children, all Ivalicians to believe they can get through the war and into a better life. What do you have to believe in, Kadmus?  
  
I don't believe in anything. I mean, I don't have a doctrine to guide my life with. Of course there's God, but it doesn't seem like he wants to get involved with his creations. I believe that wars will never truly end. I believe that one day I'll die, and that before then I'll make a lot of decisions that I'll always defend as the best ones at the time'.  
  
However ambivalent I may be, I refuse to place my faith in an institution that hires people like me to make sure their approval rating is unanimous.  
  
But I'll work for them.  
  
Is this really better than Bethla?  
  
Well, there's at least one difference between here and there. I smile, though it feels a bit false. I believe I must be doing something right for Reis to still want to be around me.  
  
Chiroseau doesn't look anywhere near amused. Aimee will find out everything on her own time. All I can do as her father is support her. But considering that Miss Reis will never go into the knighthood, don't you think that she deserves to know what you'll be doing once the future Cardinal comes back?  
  
--_Beowulf, you're wonderful. You're truly courageous_--  
  
She doesn't need to know.  
  
Why not?  
  
--_That may be true, but you're the most important person to me_--  
  
Because it's not something she needs to think about.  
  
You can't seriously believe that.  
  
--_I've been looking for you...I can help you_--  
  
And I can't believe you still seriously have faith in the Church, but we all have our own beliefs, don't we?  
  
Kadmus...are you worried about what she would think about you?  
  
--_I love you too_--  
  
I look directly into his eyes.   
  
It's the truth.  
  
I'm a murderer. Worse yet, I won't quit. I know how horrible the Church is, how truly rotten the people running it are. I know that.  
  
But my better option hasn't appeared yet, and I want to wait for it.  
  
I just want her to smile a bit longer for me.  
  
Chiroseau starts, but all he's done is pry and ask questions that don't concern him. If he's going to do that, then he's going to listen to everything I have to say.  
  
I...I'm scared that Reis will leave me once I tell her what a Temple Knight--what I really do. It isn't something that I can ignore, I know, though I'd really like to, what do you think of Reis?  
  
He looks at me a little oddly. She's a nice girl, though she seems a little unsure about some things.  
  
What an understatement. She's a wonderful woman, but she was...sheltered, well, that word will do, but you know what I think really helped her? The fact that we went out, that she made friends; basically that she was living a nice, normal life. Buremonda doesn't know a thing about what she really needs or wants, only what he wants her to do. She needs to be treated like a human being, not like some precious heirloom to be taken out of its case every few years or so.  
  
--_I'm...I'm used to being alone. I don't even have any friends..._--  
  
It was surprising to hear that when we first met. That admission...I think that's what really drew me to her. My own situation wasn't that extreme, but I can understand that feeling, that wanting to reach out to somebody, anybody.  
  
It didn't quite work when I tried it.  
  
Even if Reis was really just blindly groping out for someone, I'm still touched that she chose me.  
  
And as for the Temple Knight thing, I close my eyes, all Reis ever does is worry about things. Inconsequential or not, they're all the same to her. I'm not going to give her another thing to worry about. So please, I don't need to hear about it, slowly, I open my eyes. He's inscrutable at the moment,   
  
I don't mind everybody and their fiancé asking me about certain aspects of our relationship. They're only going to get so much information anyway. And I understand that Chiroseau feels he should look out for her. Fine. We're all trying to protect her, even Buremonda...though I'd really like to not believe that, but it wouldn't be fair of me to.  
  
But, I prefer to do things on my own time.  
  
I understand, he says quietly, turning around and opening the door. He pauses for a moment before walking away, but, I do worry. I hope you know what you're doing, Kadmus.  
  
So do I.  
  
I won't pretend that I know her thought processes beyond her expressions at any given time. Maybe she'd just brush aside the more brutal aspects of my job. I hope not. She seems to have a higher moral standard than that. I do too, but the fact that I don't do anything with it makes me an even worse person than those who simply don't care.  
  
I should've left a long time ago, but it's...difficult to leave the Church. With the position I hold, there's only two ways to leave: die, or be branded a heretic.  
  
Admittedly, the situations are a bit redundant.  
  
But everything is bound to get better. It's gradual, but it happens. I really, honestly believe that there's a better option out there. It'll have consequences, they always do, but I'm not that much of a dreamer to believe there is a perfectly painless option. But there will be something good in it, even if it doesn't look like it at first.  
  
It happened even here.  
  
But that option is out there, and I'd like for us to go to it together.  
  
---  
  
(Act 4: A Rejection)  
  
A songstress is coming to town?  
  
I have to chuckle at the formal term Reis used, even as she stares at me curiously from across the table. Yeah. Since you liked Miss Koizumi, I thought you'd like to see Miss Belane.  
  
She nods at this thoughtfully, dipping her spoon into her soup and carefully taking a sip before looking up at me again. Is she as good as Miss Chieko?  
  
Good question. I guess we'll see tomorrow, I even smile a little, trying to get rid of the general bad feeling I've been having about this whole event. I don't know why, but it seems as if Reis has been noticing by the number of odd looks she keeps throwing my way, even when I'm not talking, so, do you want to go?  
  
there's an almost-blank look on her face, except for the slight wrinkles forming on her forehead as she continues to stare at me, that is, if you want to?  
  
Great, she really can tell. Of course I want to, I grin, after all, I'll be going with one of the most beautiful women in Lionel, she sighs at this and goes back to her soup.  
  
I suppose I could've told Reis that I really didn't want to go, but...I'm curious about Miss Belane.  
  
I've got no right, but...  
  
---  
  
It's five, when normally everybody is here in the barracks, but with today being Miss Belane's little singing benefit, everybody left. According to Mikner, who was her bodyguard before he joined the Order, she's always had the idea of going around Ivalice and cheering up the people with her songs.  
  
She's a very devout believer of the Glabados faith.  
  
I kept wanting to cancel this date, but I've never done that before and I shouldn't inflict my own unhappiness onto Reis as well. It wouldn't be fair to her. So now I'm just waiting around for her to arrive, since the benefit is at five-thirty.  
  
--knoknoknok--  
  
That must be her. Eh, oh well. I walk from my bunk to the front door and open it, a smile already on my face. I'm not exactly forcing it either, which is probably a good thing. Reis smiles back. Good evening, Beowulf, that's a cute outfit she's wearing. Have I seen it before?  
  
Good evening. Shall we go? She nods and turns, the skirt of her dress not moving at all. It...the entire dress is practically molded to her figure. It's a cream color, with a darker colored dragon rising from the bottom hem. There's also a blue vest thrown on top of that. I know she doesn't get cold easily, but it is practically mid-September.  
  
Haven't I seen it before?  
  
She's giving me an odd look.  
  
Your outfit is nice, I say, taking her hand. We start walking towards the shopping street, where the benefit is to be held, have I seen it before?  
  
For a moment she smiles very widely, which quickly tapers down into one of her normal, subdued smiles. I was wearing this the first time... she pauses, and I can feel her thumb rubbing lightly against my knuckles, the first time I told you I love you.  
  
Oh...wow. I grin. Oh, now I remember, I squeeze her hand, but, it's a pretty unusual outfit. Are you working outside of job class uniforms now?  
  
She looks down, then back at me, these are from job classes. The dress is from a female dragoon, and the vest is altered from a mediator's jacket.  
  
Great. I feel stupid asking this, since I should know, but... What is a dragoon, exactly?  
  
Ah...aren't they the ones who wield spears...?  
  
Oh, a lancer, weird. That other name must be the original name, or maybe just a regional term, I've never seen a female lancer wear anything close to that. They usually wear a dress of blue and gold over their armor, I sound like I've been staring at the female lancers or something...  
  
Reis shrugs, looking forward. I liked the dragon design.  
  
Understandable. It looks amazing on you, as well as very tight. Not like I mind, but I don't exactly fancy glaring down every man that stares at her, since I do actually want to pay attention to the event at hand.  
  
We make our way to the shopping area, where a large crowd has gathered at the east end of the street. I don't know whether to push through and try to find a spot up front or stay in the back. Looking away from the crowd, I see that some people have climbed up to the roofs of some of the closer stores for a better view...great, this is a security failure in the making...  
  
Miss Anna must be very famous, Reis observes, looking around, I didn't realize that this was such a big event.  
  
Neither did I. I finally found out yesterday that I did sign a clearance for Miss Belane and her entourage--I can't believe a singer needs to travel with so many people--but I think I was half-asleep that day. Well, if nothing else, everybody seems relatively calm. Do you want to try to squeeze through all these people to get up front?  
  
She looks hesitant.   
  
Holding her hand tightly--she doesn't like being around a lot of people--I wade into the crowd, my only weapons being profuse apologies and excuse me's'. I'm in civilian clothing, so it's not like I could order anybody around...and that's not really very fair, is it? Just because I'm a knight doesn't mean that I have--should have--any extra privileges.  
  
Maybe I'm just idealistic, but aren't we all the same in the end?  
  
After a couple minutes, we manage to make it to the front of the crowd. I look over at Reis...she looks a bit miserable. Are you okay, love?  
  
She nods once. I'm sorry...that was a dense crowd, she glances towards the front, then looks up at me, pointing discreetly, is that Miss Anna?  
  
Hm...?  
  
There is a woman in the space designated for her musicians and whatnot, talking with a bard. Long chestnut-colored hair flows over her scarlet cloak, both of which are constantly moving as she gestures animatedly. She looks to be around Reis' age. She's pretty.  
  
So, that's his daughter.  
  
I suppose so, I reply, just as Miss Belane turns to face her audience.  
  
Hello, everyone! As soon as she says this, the din of the crowd immediately lessens. She smiles widely, as if she doesn't have a care in the world. Thank you very much for having me here! Shall I begin? Various musicians take up their instruments--mostly strings and flutes and the like--and they go into a rendition of...something. Sounds like a hymn. Then she begins, her voice following the melody with a sweeping, regal style...it's nice, but boring to someone like me. I mean, if I had wanted to hear a hymn, I would attend church.  
  
After a long time, the melody switches to another hymn. I look over at Reis, who is completely blank. I can't blame her.  
  
I'm surprised...Miss Belane really must be devout, but her father was anything but.  
  
Does she have an inkling as to the organization behind those songs of worship?  
  
Did she see her father's body and realize he was the victim of numerous drain spells?  
  
Does she even care?  
  
...That's too harsh to think. Of course she cares. Of course she doesn't know that the Church ordered it. I'm...good at my job.  
  
But hearing her sing these hymns...what painful irony.  
  
I should tell her the truth.  
  
...What am I thinking? I can't tell her that! Even if it's the right thing to do...even though I'll be the one paying for it with my life if I do...but still, doesn't she deserve to know the truth?  
  
I glance over at Reis again. My beautiful Reis who will do no less than to charge into battle just because she can, just because she thinks it's the right thing to do...  
  
...My girlfriend's more of a knight than I'll ever be.  
  
--_Beowulf, you're wonderful. You're truly courageous_--  
  
I want to be worthy of those words. Reis has so much faith in me...the least I can do is prove her right.  
  
Is this really the right thing to do?  
  
Looking at Miss Belane, at the joy on her face as she sings hymns to the so-called Saint Ajora...I wonder if I'm going to be doing the right thing.  
  
Is the truth worth my life?  
  
With a rising crescendo, Miss Belane and the musicians finish their latest hymn. Nobody cheers, but I can feel how expectant the crowd is for another one of her songs. Everyone is hungry for entertainment, something new to cross paths with their mundane lives. Lionel really is isolated for the normal person who can't just pop over to Dorter and Gallionne. And even if they could, would they really want to? I've heard that there are famines going on in various parts of Ivalice, not to mention the outright lawlessness with all the knights at Bethla.  
  
Lionel is heaven; at least, the type of heaven that extracts a heavy price for its entrance fee.  
  
Before I finish, I'd like to sing a final song, she smiles easily, gesturing the bard she was talking to earlier to join her at the front of their impromptu stage. Well, I think he's a bard, what with the flashy clothes, long blond hair and slightly feminine features. I can hear girls behind me whispering excitedly about this bard, this is the acclaimed bard Gilbert von Muir of Riovanes Castle, who created this final song in one of the ancient dialects of Ivalice and will be accompanying me with the lute, she seems a little too excited about this bard, this is our song, Estrelas', or   
  
The bard begins playing the lute in a very short introduction before Miss Belane jumps in. Because I was tuning out the hymns from before, I wasn't really listening to her voice, but in this song her voice is low and full of body. It's a very skilled voice, even if I can't understand the words.  
  
_Cheio de estrelas  
Cheio de sonhos da gente  
Que espera paz._  
  
I look over at Reis, who I know can at least translate ancient Ivalician. She's smiling now, which is always a good thing. I guess she knows this dialect too?  
  
The song ends quickly, in a flourish of lute and violin. It was a pretty song, too. Thank you very much for coming to this small show, everyone, and good night! She bows to the crowd, then immediately starts talking to the bard. I see some of my men approach Miss Belane, congratulating her on a job well done.  
  
I should tell her.  
  
--_The teachings have allowed me, my children, all Ivalicians to believe they can get through the war and into a better life_--  
  
So...? Does that make them right? Is having misplaced faith in a bad, immoral institution better than not having any faith at all?  
  
I could tell her the truth. That's something everybody wants to know, isn't it?  
  
--_What do you have to believe in, Kadmus?_--  
  
I...well, that things will always turn out for the best. Even in the worst situation, there's always a way out into something slightly better. That's still good, isn't it?  
  
Miss Belane is laughing loudly. The murderer of her father is standing some steps away...but she's laughing.  
  
Maybe this is her best situation. With the faith she placed in the Church, maybe she's happy now because of it.  
  
Even if it's horribly misplaced.  
  
What right do I have to take that faith away?  
  
Even if it's the right thing to do...  
  
Isn't it?  
  
Something lightly touches my shoulder, and I turn to see Reis staring at me, her eyes glimmering with an unspoken question. There's only concern on her lovely face. Great, and I promised myself I wouldn't worry her. Sorry about that. Let's go, we turn around, heading back through the alleys.  
  
I'm turning my back on Miss Belane, who deserves to know the truth as much as she deserves to keep her faith in something.  
  
There are so many other victims out there that I'm turning my back on, people who just wanted to believe in something different, something they felt was right. There are probably even more relatives of those victims, daughters and sons and brothers and sisters, parents and cousins, all who deserve to know the truth...  
  
But not at the expense of their faith.  
  
No. No more.  
  
Once Draclau comes back, I'll tell him. Even if he did lead me into this life, he used to be a knight. He'll understand that there's a point when the killing becomes too much. Place me behind a desk, let me patrol, that's perfectly fine. I like doing that. I could justify the killing in the war because that was something I had to do if I wanted to survive. Kill or be killed, that's...not exactly fine, but I'll be paying for that for the rest of my life anyway.  
  
But I had never killed an innocent on the battlefield.  
  
It probably won't work, but all I can do is try.  
  
Reis says, her voice sounding hesitant. I look over at her, you know...you know where I am if you need to talk... she smiles slightly, looking very uncomfortable,   
  
God, it feels great to be cared for. but I feel a little bad about worrying her.  
  
She looks at me as if she were trying to figure out something, then she moves up to me and hugs me. Thank you, she whispers, her head fitted right under my chin. I wrap one arm around her waist and stroke her long hair with my other hand. She's so soft and pliant, but at the same time she's so brave it's almost intimidating.  
  
Oh, Reis...  
  
I'll do it. When Draclau comes back, I'll tell him that I won't kill any more heretics'. He can strip away my Holy Knight' leadership title, my Temple Knight status for all I care, but I won't do it anymore.  
  
But, if he asks for my life as well...then what?

-End to Interlude #2-

Time is relative. This was supposed to go up on the night of 3/3, but then I couldn't log in until 3/5, and by then I figured I would just wait until I was back on my schedule of Tuesday nights.  
  
Anyway, this...this is Beowulf. I really wish I could've fit both parts together for a better flow between the parts, but I'm really sick of 30 pages per chapter. With this Beowulf interlude I wanted to portray a man. A nice one, by all accounts. Probably too nice, it depends. One who, despite his kindness, was also--is also a soldier, albeit the fact that he's not really suited to deal with the consequences of his actions. He's too ambivalent about too many things and just plain unwilling to act unless pushed. Lastly, he's all too aware of his own mortality.  
  
I wanted to portray a man, not a perfect hero.  
  
-FFIV references are abound! Anna, Tellah, whales that can fly to the moon', Gilbert (the spoony bard!) and the song Estrelas', which is a part of the _Final Fantasy: Love Will Grow_ CD. The subtitle of Estrelas' is Gilbert's Lute' and the song is in Portuguese. I was very close to using the title song Love Will Grow', but the instruments in it are too fancy (a piano, chorus and a conductor) and it just seems way too heavy-handed for a message. Oh, and before this sounds like too much of a crossover, Anna and Gilbert are featured in the propositions Poet Gilbert's Thoughts' and Joyous Song for You', where they had a seven year courtship...  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Yeah, Luna, I thought it was pretty weird when I received your signed review, but I figured it had to be cut because I know that at least you use proper punctuation. Guess 's just being weird like usual. Hm...you know, I never even thought of the float bracelet having any correlation to Reis' later dragon skills. I'll say that you're very perceptive, but since so-and-so bracelet' is mistranslated (though I don't know how, considering buresuretto' adds three kana onto buresu'...) well, you're still more perceptive than me.  
  
The Burning Misery...well, you're right, the name seems a bit angsty...or painful, I'm not quite sure which. But then again I really like angst, so it sounds kinda cool to me! Thank you very much for your comments. I feel that if the POV doesn't flow naturally, especially with first-person, then it just ruins the entire thing. As for complex plots...I get a headache when they're too complex, so I've really tried to make sure that everything fits seamlessly so that the plot only looks complex. In reality, this is probably the most simple multi-chaptered story I've ever done.  
So, does that mean that you don't write multi-chaptered fics, or that you just can't stand it? Remember, practice makes perfect (except that no one can ever be perfect, but I'm trying to be optimistic)!  
  
Hey, Toastyann. Well, I'd disagree with you because it was a little too sappy for my tastes...at least, The Woman Who Floats With Kindness' is, anyway. I do completely agree with you on the believable dimension' part; if it had been done in Reis' POV it would've seemed pretty out there. Haha...yeah, I was really walking along a tightrope with the activation' part, so I'm really happy that you felt it worked well. Ah, Fushigi Yuugi...I loved that one when I was fifteen, even though Miaka was so blatantly Mary-Sue-ish.  
Oh, and a question: how's work going on The Journey'? I haven't had any time to look up any of the stories I used to read.  
  
Thank you for reading! Well, if you have any questions or comments, I'd like to hear--read--them!  
  
Chapter 22: Exploration (_Holy Water Complex_): You...really feel this way, Verden?


	25. 22: Exploration

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 22: Exploration (_Holy Water Complex_)  
  
These days, everything is different.  
  
Maybe finding out what I truly am was the catalyst, or maybe it's been slowly building from opening up, but I feel more...relaxed somehow. At peace, I guess?  
  
I'll never be as comfortable and confident as Beowulf always seems to be, but for the moment I'm feeling fine, more or less.  
  
Stretching out on my too-wide, too-short bed, I roll off it, feet colliding neatly with the cold floor as I heft the rest of my body off of the warm bed. I bend down in front of my valise, absently smoothing out the wrinkles of my nightgown as I sift through the various clothes. Hm, sleeveless plum-colored dress and a long-sleeved, button-down white shirt. I really like the latter; it's currently been my favorite article of clothing.  
  
I dress quickly, the bells ringing to announce the hour of nine while I comb out my long hair. I should really get it cut soon, even if Beowulf complains; my hair is already at my waist. I used to keep it longer than that for most of my life, but once I turned nineteen I just started to cut it just below the shoulders instead of a simple trim. It doesn't get in the way as much and it feels lighter too.  
  
After finding and putting on my black boots, I leave my room quickly and head towards the front of the church. Ah, back to the mundane world of translating. It's not so bad of a job, all things considering, but compared to my day off a couple days ago...  
  
--_Did that feel good, love?_--  
  
I giggle, even though I hadn't at that time, and I turn the corner and open the library door. The morning sun is shining through the skylight, bathing most of the library in its light. It'd almost be enough to let me slip back to Bariaus Hill if it weren't for that musty smell that all bookrooms seem to possess. Perhaps if they had windows...  
  
The sun is so inviting...I want to go outside and feel it against my bare skin...  
  
Somehow I manage to make my way to my seat. Notepad, pen, tome. I'm almost done with the latter. What is Verden going to give me next? I still really don't understand why I was transferred here to do this sort of work...but I'm not going to complain about it either. I wonder if my old section back in Murond is being taken care of nicely for my return?  
  
Then again, if I could, I wouldn't return. There are too many reasons to stay and not enough to leave.  
  
Oh well. I don't want to think too much about that, I just want to take things as they come. It's a lot more relaxing that way. Propping the book up, my eyes skim over the words written in that not-quite-ancient script.  
  
_Primarily, the reason why the Glabados Church had first aligned themselves with the country of Ni'ie (translated as Sun Residence, also colloquially known as the Eastern Lands) was due to their unique warriors and the openness expressed at the idea of different faiths. The Church therefore promised to grant trade treatises to Ni'ie with the Church-owned land of Lionel in exchange for learning the arts of their mystical warriors, such as the samurai, the ninja, the augur (later changed by the Church to oracle), the monk and the mime. In 645, forty years after the first treaty was signed, the Church conducted a treaty between King Rivoelich VI and Emperor Kami-no-Matsuemi, ensuring that Ivalice and Ni'ie would be allies in the forthcoming war against the Kingdom of Valendia._  
  
...Hm, that's actually pretty interesting. Let's see, in the official Church timeline, this year of Pantora forty-seven would translate to nine-hundred and eighty-seven, considering that the Church uses the death of Ajora to start off their calendar. I'll see the millennium when I'm thirty-three...would it be too much to hope that the war will have ended by then?  
  
It's sad that Ivalice has such a rich tradition of wars, considering that, in the most ancient of dialects, the word yvalice' means life'.  
  
When will this war end...why did it start in the first place? Something about land...I wonder if Beowulf knows...but I probably shouldn't bother him with something like that. I don't want to dredge up any--all--the bad memories he has concerning the war. He seemed pretty distracted for a couple of days, up until that little concert held by Miss Anna less than a week ago.  
  
I still can't help but wonder what was wrong...  
  
I wish he would tell me what it was. I want to help him...but I also can understand if he doesn't want to tell me.  
  
--_You'll...you'll never be able to bear a child_--  
  
It...it's unrealistic to decide to have no secrets between us. I wouldn't dare ask of it from him because then...  
  
No. I'm happily selfish. I want to be with him, I want him to hold me, kiss me, touch me. I want to be free to love him and vice versa.  
  
I'll gladly keep all the secrets I need to maintain that.  
  
It's not a good thing to do, I know. I can't justify it with anything except my own human nature.  
  
Well, judging by the past few days, he seems to be back to his normal self...  
  
_I really like Bariaus Valley. It's a rather beautiful landscape, what with all the open green fields and the dirt path that runs through it into a lazily-running river surrounded by cliffs. The trees are pretty, too, lush and full and most of them easy to climb--although for Beowulf's sake I try to keep my feet on the ground.  
  
We're underneath one of those trees now, somewhere in-between the town and the river. Beowulf, in his uniform, is sitting with his back against the tree trunk, his arms comfortably around my waist. I like leaning against him, even if the weird buttons on his jacket seem to be perpetually clashing with the ridges of my spine. Well, it's not like I can do anything about it short of asking him to take off his jacket, and that's...a bit forward.  
  
Hm...it's too bad this will probably be our last outing here for the year, he sighs into my ear. For the year? But it's only September...  
  
I turn my head so that I can get a better look at his face. Why's that?  
  
he looks out into the distance, no particular expression on his face, because the cold seasons are coming soon, smiling now, he glances at me, unless you'd like to sit with me in the snow?  
  
I don't really care for autumn and winter, especially the latter; it's not as if I have an aversion to the snow and cold winds, but there just doesn't seem to be as much...life. That and I can remember spending entire winters eating dried red chocobo, nuts, and melted snow with the rest of my family. It wasn't fun, but we couldn't do anything else as most of the monsters were hibernating.  
  
That little cabin was so much smaller during those frigid winters.  
  
I guess it would be cold, wouldn't it? It's too bad...and where are we going to be able to be alone without the fear of someone stopping upon us? His office? That...that doesn't seem like a good idea...  
  
He lifts up his right arm from around me, calloused fingers brushing against my skin as he pushes back the thick lock of hair by the right side of my face. Well, there's always next spring, his tone is so cheerful, his eyes sparkling with his usual good humor, of course, we could wander out here, just to see what the area looks like when it's blanketed with fresh snow.  
  
But he's been here for three years now, so... Don't you know what that looks like?  
  
Yes, but you don't, quickly, he reaches forward and kisses me on the forehead, then draws back, do you?  
  
I smile. That felt nice, that...spontaneity? I think that's the word. No, only the hill and the main cathedral at Murond, and neither of them looked particularly stunning. Bariaus Hill just looked less...brown, and Murond...well, I spent most of my time indoors, whether in my bookroom or in my room, is it pretty? It's probably a stupid question. I mean, even the description of blanketed with fresh snow' sounds nothing short of wondrous.  
  
Hm...pretty, huh... he looks like he's thinking about it seriously...I didn't think it was a question that needed that sort of attention... well, compared to what, exactly?  
  
...I...don't know? Anything he wants, I guess. It's up to you.  
  
With the arm he still has around my waist, he gently coaxes me into moving so that, instead of sitting with my back against his chest, it's now my right side that's pressed up against him. His arm moves up around my shoulders as the hand he was using to brush away my hair earlier now cups the left side of my face, softly stroking my cheekbone with his thumb. He's grinning as he lowers his face towards mine, and I can feel his lips move against my own as he whispers so lowly that my ears have a bit of trouble picking up his words.  
  
A distant third...  
  
Not like it matters what he's saying when he's kissing me directly afterward...well, it does, but...  
  
Somewhere in the middle of our lingering kisses, lips pressed together with only the barest hint of tongue, I manage to lift my right arm from between our bodies up over his shoulder, as well as bring up my left hand so that I can touch his face. He pulls me up closer to him while my fingers idly run through his hair, then he begins to end the kiss, though I try very hard to keep our lips connected for just a moment longer before pulling away.  
  
You're eager today, he says admiringly as he places another kiss on my forehead, not like that's a bad thing or anything.  
  
My smile is wide--well, for me anyway--as I snuggle up against him. I can't help it when I'm with you, and he smiles back. I love how genuinely happy he looks when he smiles, but what's in second? I've been with him long enough to know what he put in first, and I'm a bit determined to move away from his endless compliments. I do appreciate them, but...it gets to be too much sometimes.  
  
Oh, so you already know that you're in first, he sounds happy with himself,   
  
Actually, I don't, I watch his expression go from nearly smug to curious, I just know you well enough.  
  
He sighs at this. I thought you believed in anything that was true.  
  
Now I sigh. But rankings are subject to interpretation, aren't they?  
  
Yes, but... if it were anybody but Beowulf, I'd say that he was looking a little frustrated, I only have my viewpoint to go on, so if you're first to me, you're first and that's it.  
  
...If he says so. But I had a question... So then, you have a first and a third, but what's in second?  
  
He grins at this. There is no second, and before I have a chance to ask why that is, his lips are on mine again.  
  
I love the way he kisses me. I mean, I can't compare him to anyone else since he was my first kiss, and I hope I never have to either. Every touch is new yet familiar at the same time, the past caress of his lips lingering even as the next one makes itself vividly known. The roughness of his fingers as they stroke my face, my neck only serve to prove the realness of all this, the complete and total affection he places in every move he makes towards me. It's something so inherently Beowulf that I can only bask in the wonder of it all.  
  
Our lips are locked together tightly, exploring the explored with a new vigor as my hands entangle themselves in the layers of his slicked-back hair. His hand is moving down from my face, down the side of my neck and onto my shoulder. There isn't any hesitation, not like the last time, as his hand slides down over my chest and cups my left breast. It's a nice feeling, not all rushed and desperate like that last time...it feels comfortable.  
  
And, with just as much lack of hesitation, he pulls away both his hand and his face. he mutters, his eyes locked on mine with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise dwelling within them, I didn't mean to do that.  
  
Oh.  
  
...That kind of hurts. I mean...why not? Am I not attractive enough? He says I'm pretty one minute, and then the next he pulls away from me.  
  
Hn.  
  
I...guess we should just go back, he says after a long moment of awkward silence. My arms drop onto my lap in reluctant compliance. The arm he has around my shoulders starts to move away, but...if this is going to be our last trip through Bariaus Valley for a long time, I don't want to leave these uncomfortable feelings here.  
  
I look up at him. He still has that mixture of emotions in his dark eyes, and it makes me feel...uncomfortable with continuing, am I... how am I supposed to ask something like this... is my body...um, is it not attractive or appealing...to you?  
  
I never thought I'd ever have to ask him that question. I'm sure it would've never been needed to be asked either if I had a body just like Mama's, all full-figured with a filled-out chest and child-bearing hips...not like the latter would be of any use to me now anyway...  
  
Hn.  
  
What? I've never said anything like that, his left arm comes around my shoulders again as confusion dominates his expression, what gave you that idea?  
  
...I didn't realize his memory was so bad. Just now, you pulled away and said that you didn't mean to do that', I pause as his face goes blank, that sort of hurt my feelings.  
  
Oh, I didn't mean... he runs his right hand through my hair, I remembered the last time I touched you there, and you glared at me and ran away, he looks weary now, that really...I didn't like that.  
  
But didn't we already go through this? I ran away because I was confused about my feelings, not because of the way you were touching me. I liked that.  
  
That's...that's a little embarrassing to hear myself say out loud.  
  
He studies my face while softly stroking my hair.   
  
I nod. I'll lie to Verden to hide my relationship with Beowulf, but I won't lie to Beowulf about anything.  
  
I just won't tell him unless he absolutely needs to know.  
  
Slowly, he moves his hand down from the top of my head to my breast again, cupping it and squeezing softly. His thumb lightly moves around my nipple, and it feels...well, nice. Especially when it goes over the top...that's very nice. he murmurs, and I open my eyes--I didn't even realize they were closed--and look up at him. There's a faint smile on his face, do you mind if I undo these buttons? He moves his hand up so that his fingers are at the top button of my long-sleeved shirt. I thought it went well with the dark blue long skirt I had found at the bottom of my valise.  
  
I don't mind, my voice sounds hushed to my ears. He smiles wider at this, and I begin to feel the cool air against my chest as he easily releases each button from its hole with just his right hand. That's impressive, I think. I need both my hands.  
  
All the buttons are undone. I can't help but look at his face as he stares at the revealed skin. Because generally what he's feeling ends up on his face, I can see what he thinks about my small breasts, the angry-red scar right below my ribcage, flat stomach and the small dip into my navel that is my bellybutton. Altogether, it's not very visually impressive. They're just...there.  
  
I'm not as impressive as he seems to think I am.  
  
He leans in close, his right hand tipping up my chin, fingertips teasing the underneath of my jaw. Reis, you're very beautiful.  
  
That's it. A simple statement with none of his usual flattery. There's no charming smile to complement those words, not either gracing his lips or lighting up his dark, wonderful eyes. There's just those words and my unhidden body.  
  
...Wow. I don't know, but... Thank you, I smile, my cheeks tingling with heat, and I can hear a suppressed chuckle deep within his throat as he closes the short distance between our faces--_  
  
  
  
I start, looking over to my left and seeing Verden standing there with a concerned look on his face. Oh, right, I'm at work, not outside among the sun and the fresh air and fingertips trickling down my throat...God, I've got to stop thinking about that! Ah, sorry, I was just thinking...  
  
He smiles serenely. Yes, you appeared to be deeply in thought. I hope I'm not interrupting...?  
  
No, of course not, not at all... did you need to see me about something?  
  
Making his way to the other side of the table, he sits down and faces me, a slightly odd look on his face. I guess it's odd because we haven't really talked in a while--I don't really consider my request to go to Bariaus Hill much of a talk--so it's strange for me to adjust to him again.  
  
I find that I'm thinking about him rather neutrally. I suppose that's a good thing?  
  
Actually, I felt regretful that we haven't had a proper conversation in a long time, so I made sure to set some time out of my schedule to visit you, oh, that's awfully kind of him, so, how are you progressing with that tome?  
  
I glance at the upraised volume and gently push it down so that its pages are facing the ceiling...skylight. I'm about four-fifths done. Is there another book that you wish for me to work on next?  
  
He frowns a bit at this. What is it? Well, lately I've been wondering how you've come to like your stay in Lionel.  
  
Well, I'm enjoying it a lot, more than I should...not like he needs to know, it's very nice to be home again.  
  
It didn't feel so nice at first, but now...it is home.  
  
I see. I'm overjoyed to hear that, of course, his saying that with his mellow expression is a , I was wondering if you wished to expand your already impressive repertoire of skills.  
  
Hm? Excuse me? Why would I need to do that?  
  
Well, as you may know, Cardinal Draclau will be returning sometime in early December, I nod at this, and there will mostly likely be an influx of work he'll have to complete with his increased rank. Through my communication with him, he seems interested in keeping you here as his personal cataloger and recorder. The work will most likely be a bit overwhelming at first, but I'm sure that someone of your level of organization and skill will be easily able to control that, he smiles, a hint of something in his light blue eyes, do you have any questions?  
  
I don't have to go back to Murond? I can stay here and be with Beowulf--especially since the rules should right themselves once the cardinal comes back--and we won't have to hide our relationship. I'm surprised that the cardinal would grant all this without even having met me, though. It's such a sudden offer, especially since Cardinal Draclau has never met me before. Is this really alright?  
  
Certainly so, Verden chuckles, and of course your salary will remain the same...in fact, you'll probably get a raise because of the increased workload. Is that satisfactory?  
  
I'm not generally concerned with money. All I need are fabrics, thread, and some food for when Beowulf has a shift at either lunch or dinner time. I'm surprised all our lunch and dinner dates haven't run him into debt by now. It's fine, thank you.  
  
The biggest reward out of all this is being able to stay in Lionel, anyway.  
  
Well, with that out of the way, have you heard very much about the current situation with the war? He seems eager to tell me. Well, it's not as if anything else exceeds its importance.  
  
I shake my head. No, is something happening?  
  
Well, due to Sir Beoulve's--Balbanes, not either of his sons--current illness, there's word that there might be preliminary measures to insure a peace agreement should the Ordalians try to breach through Bethla Garrison, Verden sighs, shaking his head just a little in what appears to be disgust, forty-seven years and only now do those knights think of a possible peace treaty. Foolish.  
  
Now, while I do agree that forty-seven years is ridiculous, his criticism of the knights is getting to me. But the knights have been protecting us for this long, I look down at the table as he gives me an odd look. I can't help it...he's making me feel as if I said something stupid, they shouldn't be blamed for prolonging the war.  
  
Who would want to be in a war that has lasted nearly a half a century already?  
  
Of course, you are right in understanding what they have sworn to do, glancing up, I can't help but notice how tired he looks all of a sudden, but you have not seen the horrors many of them have brought upon us at the same time they swore they were protecting' us.  
  
What...what does he mean? I don't understand. What have they done?  
  
He looks at me, none of his usual composure in place. Instead, he looks like a man who has seen many unspeakable things in his life.  
  
Beowulf looked like that when we were listening to Miss Anna...  
  
...I would not want to sully your mind with such gruesome recollections, he says after a drawn out moment, but I have seen the refugees pour in from Limberry, Zeltennia and Fovoham, and not all of them had been wronged by the enemy soldiers, his eyes seem so empty as they gaze upon me, you must understand, Reis, not all of our enemies are what morality would call evil', and not all of our own can be considered good'. It is the epitome of naivety to think such a thing.  
  
I understand that, but it is also hard to think of one generally respected as a bad person. Then again, I prefer to judge a person by what they have done, not what their reputation says of them. And, of course, it would be extremely hard to think of Beowulf as a bad person. He would have to be doing--not done, because he may have had' a reason, but not have'--something horrendous for me to think that.  
  
Of course, it wouldn't be nearly so hard to judge Verden in that same way, although he is making a good point right now. And myself...I'm not a good person either. My morals are too relative to myself, not to the greater good'.  
  
I lean back in my chair and try not to slouch too much, is that why you don't like the knights?  
  
I suppose, though the relative lack of true' knights, as opposed to people trying to climb up the ranks, probably skew my outlook as well, that's pretty candid of him to say, but what's a true knight'? you may not understand what I mean, considering the exposure you've had to our so-called Holy Knights', but a true' knight strictly follows the conduct of chivalry.  
  
Oh. Rules, right? You...really feel this way, Verden? I'm starting to be reminded as to why I had a low opinion of Verden in the first place. He really shouldn't be so underhanded in the way he talks about people when they aren't even around to defend themselves, like Peppermint or Beowulf.  
  
He smiles slightly. But that is not a suitable topic to turn our attentions on. What was I saying...ah, but in any case, it does not seem as if Sir Beoulve will worsen anytime soon, which is nothing but good news for Ivalice. He is one of those that have followed the proper conduct, and it certainly seems as if his son Zalbag will follow that path as well.  
  
I'm confused. I thought Sir Beoulve has more than one son? Why only Sir Zalbag?  
  
Because he also is a devout believer in the Holy Saint, Verden says promptly. I hide my sigh, if he continues his path, he would be a worthy addition to the Church as a heretic examiner, he pauses, the eldest son, Dycedarg, seems to be more politically-minded from what I hear, and he certainly isn't as devout as his younger brother.  
  
Oh. I guess I can understand how those in the Church would judge people based on the depth of their faith, but I don't think that could accurately judge who is the better man of the two. There are only two Beoulve children?  
  
He shakes his head. There are two others, vastly younger and from a second wife. The first one died due to the Black Plague. Anyway, due to the rules of the aristocracy, they won't amount to much, even though one of them is a girl and can therefore be married off to attain a higher rank for the family, there is irritation faintly clouding his gentle features now, the system of nobility is certainly a poor one, especially with the way they choke off the so-called commoners.  
  
What system would you rather use? I certainly wouldn't know. Beowulf's a noble, but he doesn't flaunt it at all, so I tend to forget that he's reluctantly a knight in the first place.  
  
Perhaps a system of a church-owned country. Lionel is prosperous while the rest of Ivalice withers due to the war, which has lead to famine and lawlessness. In the rest of the country the commoners chafe at the reins held by the nobles, but here one would be hard-pressed to find the differences between the two classes other than the occasional party, his eyes flicker directly into my own for an instant, but I try my hardest not to look guilty, the Church has started numerous treaties with foreign countries, instead of fighting against them for such petty things like land.  
  
We of the Glabados faith do not recognize those human-created differences such as class and nationality, we embrace all those that wish to know the Lord and His Son and we wish nothing more than to save those that do not. That is why I chose to become a priest instead of a knight, because I wished to save souls, not destroy lives, his cheeks color just a bit as he looks at me, but I should save that for the pulpit instead of here, correct?  
  
Of course, it's not unexpected for the Church to be so involved politically, with Lionel and Bervenia...but Ivalice as a whole already seems more controlled by the Church than by the nobility. Even that book I'm translating makes light of that.  
  
I thought it was interesting...your viewpoints, I mean, although I think that devotion' seems to be judged by humans more than by God, do the other priests think the same way you do?  
  
In varying amounts, he clasps his hands in front of him, laying them on the tabletop, those who have been in the more war-torn areas are more vehement about it than I, but those in Gallionne are of a more...placid understanding than I am accustomed to.  
  
That makes sense. Gallionne has never had to deal with an invasion yet. Even Lionel has once.  
  
--_Someone like you deserves to be on the winning side--_  
  
Ah...twice.  
  
Of course, I think the greatest injustice has been to place so many women on the battlefield, I glance at him. What does he mean by that? it just seems so unnecessary.  
  
As I understand it, women have been fighting alongside men as long as war has been around. Everyone's equal, right? Why do you think that?  
  
Well, it's radical to think this in these times, but when one examines those in power, one will notice that all the high-ranking officials to what is usually the king are very often only men. Up until King Omdolia's ascension to the throne and Queen Ruvelia's control, decisions about war-related duties were handled by only men, he pauses, frowning slightly, and I was going to say that women tend to be more calm and less bloodthirsty than men, but I'm also recalling the sheer amount of people being executed by the order of Queen Ruvelia. Never mind.  
  
I don't know, but... If I had something to protect, I would want to protect it with my life.  
  
--_When we find this person, or if we run into a monster...I don't want you to fight_--  
  
That still irritates me.  
  
And you did, didn't you? Those words...they were said so coldly, but I don't flinch at them. My beliefs are my own, and I would not want to impose them on another, but I really wish you hadn't done that. When I saw you with all that blood...I feared the worst, his hands unclasp and smooth out the sleeves of his robe, I would not wish the end of the war in exchange for your life, and most certainly not for a job that our own knights should've been able to handle themselves.  
  
Hn. I did what needed to be done, I say simply.  
  
--_I would've never let you find her if I had known it was more than a sprain. I probably shouldn't have, anyway..._--  
  
Even if my actions aren't appreciated, I'll still go through with them.  
  
He sighs. I suppose you did. It was a very brave thing you did, too. I guess I feel that most of the women out there fighting for Ivalice, training to be knights and such, are risking their lives for a pointless war when they could be at home, living a more fulfilled life as wives and mothers. Just like all those young men could've been something other than warriors, I nod at this. I'm not involved with the war, and even I'm weary of it, but Ivalice will have to work itself out of this rut of warfare over diplomacy.  
  
I guess so. I'm not optimistic for it, though.  
  
I'm curious, though, I look over at Verden, who seems to have fully regained his tranquility, except for that faint curiosity in his eyes, what is your astrological sign?  
  
Hm? I'm confused, why do you ask?  
  
Well, I was thinking about more worthwhile battles in history, such as the one immortalized as the zodiac brave story, which is when the Holy Saint gathered twelve warriors to help seal the evil Lucavi. Because of that, the zodiac plays an important part in Ivalice, even to this day, he seems happy talking about this, judging by the way his eyes seem to light up, it's essential in certain magic spells, but one can also use it to predict a general part of a person's personality.  
  
Oh. I don't see how that works. Does that mean that I share a general personality with everyone born between late February and early March? That seems a bit...silly. Still...well... So, what's a Pisces like?  
  
He smiles. Your sign is of the two fish, signifying the two extremes of failure and sinking, or success and rising to the top. The warrior that signifies you is Morrigan, and the corresponding Lucavi is Leviathan.  
  
So...I'm either going to sink or rise...well, isn't everyone?  
  
Well, I shouldn't be rude. And what are you?  
  
I'm a Scorpio, the sign of the scorpion, oh, really? it's a water sign like yours, and it's a more instinctive sign, with the warrior Ramuh and the Lucavi of Queklain, those descriptions are vague, aren't they? It's an instinctive sign' ...as if humanity was a reasoned creature in the first place.  
  
Oh, I see, what an odd system.  
  
--dingdingdingDONGding--  
  
Verden sits up suddenly, a surprised expression on his face. Oh, I didn't realize how fast time went by, especially while conversing with a friend, the look in his eyes is apologetic as he stands up, I'm very sorry to depart so suddenly, but I must get back to my work. It was wonderful to talk to you again, Reis.  
  
The same to you, Verden, I manage a smile as he smiles at me, then hurriedly leaves.  
  
Hm. Well, that wasn't such a bad talk at all.  
  
I glance over at the open tome in front of me, just inconspicuously reminding me that I still have work to do.  
  
Well, might as well get to it.  
  
-----  
  
Beowulf's working the night shift tonight, and I really don't feel like sewing. Something's nagging at my mind, but it can't be that important if I can't remember.  
  
Dying was not something I needed to remember.  
  
Night is approaching earlier and earlier, so I just watch as the shadows play across my ceiling, courtesy of my bedside window. It's annoying to lie on my back in this bed because I don't automatically tuck my legs up like I would if I were lying on my side. At the same time, it would be a waste of time to try and get a longer bed. I don't want to put anybody out just because of my unwieldly height.  
  
Eventually I give into temptation and turn onto my left side, scrunching up my legs until I can move my feet without hearing that --bomp-- noise as they hit the footboard. Closing my eyes, I try to find a memory that I'd like to remember...  
  
_I'm breathing so hard it's nearly drowning out all the other sounds to my sensitive hearing, but I can't help it. It's embarrassing, but I don't want to stop...or rather, I don't want him to stop. I'm not doing much at all, other than running my fingers through his hair, which seems to just spur him on, which is...definitely...a good thing. An even better thing is the feeling of the tip of his tongue going around and around and so wonderfully around...  
  
Looking down, I can't help but blush at the few angry-red marks along both my breasts, especially the one that Beowulf is...ah, focusing his attention on. Not like I wasn't feeling flushed in the first place with how attentive he's been. I suppose that's my own fault, since I somehow managed to warn him that he couldn't do anything to my neck. He looks up at me, brandy eyes communicating the grin his mouth would be displaying if it wasn't...occupied at the moment.  
  
When Peppermint was talking about these things, it was easy to be merely intellectually curious since I was removed from all that at that time, but now...it's kind of embarrassing...  
  
He moves his head away and up, gently cupping my face with his free hand as he kisses me deeply, our tongues writhing about for a moment before he pulls away and presses closed lips against my slightly open mouth. Did you like that, love? He asks as if he couldn't hear me breathing, couldn't feel my fingers urging him on.  
  
I think he's trying to embarrass me even more. He seems to like it when I blush. Hm.   
  
He raises an eyebrow at my answer. Can you elaborate?  
  
I smile.   
  
Fair enough, he shrugs, then winces, his hand moving up to his neck,   
  
What's wrong? I watch him carefully as I clumsily try to do up all the buttons of this shirt. Where has my coordination gone...oh, probably the same place as some of my self-dignity, with that stunning lack of self-control.  
  
But I'm not going to justify it. I love him, and it felt really good.  
  
Hm, just something with my neck. That wasn't the most comfortable position to do that in, he glances at me, then smiles crookedly, not like I regret it.  
  
I smile. Neither do I, I shift myself over to his side, at the roots of the tree, can you turn around so that your back is to me, please?  
  
He does so and I kneel so that we're more or less the same height, then I reach around his shoulders and undo his scarf. What are you doing? he asks in a bemused tone. I pull the scarf out in front of him and let it fall to his lap before getting the top button of his jacket open.   
  
Mama used to do this for us whenever we stretched a muscle while training, I murmur, pulling his collar out before pressing my fingertips against the muscles at the bottom of his neck, does it hurt here?  
  
Ah, yeah, there's silence as I knead into the muscle, except with my fingertips instead of the heels of my palms. He's a bit tense, though with his job I suppose it makes sense, that feels great.  
  
It's nice to know I'm useful. I whisper before moving my hands away, is your neck feeling better now?  
  
He moves his head side to side. Yeah, it is, he looks over at me and smiles, thank you.  
  
I just smile as he turns away, then starts putting his scarf back on. When I think about it, I'm really not sure if I'm as helpful and kind as Beowulf is to me. He's always doing something for me, whether it's listening to me, or buying me things, or pleasing me. I...I'm trying really hard to extend those same things to him, like after that concert a couple days ago, but he's kind of more...he accepts it, but I still don't feel like I'm doing enough.  
  
It's that same feeling from before, but different because I'm not as confused about my own feelings.  
  
All I can do is make sure I'm there when he needs me, I suppose.  
  
And, to make sure he knows.  
  
Raising my arms, I wrap them around his shoulders and lean into his back, holding him. Letting him know...  
  
I don't like to overwhelm other people, but this seems appropriate somehow.  
  
Reis? Is something wrong? He turns his head, trying to get a good look at me, and I take the opportunity to press my lips against his cheek. I can't blame him for wondering if there's something wrong with me, but...  
  
I'm fine, more or less.  
  
Everything's fine, Beowulf, I whisper into his ear and he seems to relax at this.  
  
Because of you..._  
  
My eyes open slightly, taking in all the space between my body and the wall. There's a lot of space. I'm huddled within my blankets, but they feel too light, too insubstantial to really be comforting.  
  
Wouldn't it be nice...

-End to chapter 22-

Moral of the day: (1000 1); or, compliment or insult a person a thousand times, but they'll be more affected by the one insult or compliment you accidently fling their way.  
  
Writing love scenes are an uphill battle for me, since I've never really written one before other than kissing. I keep giggling every few words because that's what I do every time I read scenes like that because they all strike me as a bit ridiculous. I'm very mature. So, there's Beowulf, and there's Verden, and there's that constant reminder that this story takes place in Ivalice (sometimes I forget), and there are plot points, one of them being extremely crucial to the coherency of the game. Why I'm the one picking up the game's slack, I don't know. Fun times, fun times.  
  
-I'd like to thank the posters in the More Ivalician Letters Deciphered' topic at the FFT board at GameFAQs, because otherwise I wouldn't have known that the Lucavi for the Pisces stone was Leviathan. The zodiac braves are unnamed, so I just tossed in the names of the Irish goddess of war and...well, the _true_ FF lightning summon. Ixion...that was a bad myth...  
  
-At one point, my subtitle made complete sense and connected with everything in this chapter. Then I wrote out the chapter. Trust me, it's symbolic.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
The Burning Misery, hello! Ah, I see. Well, good luck on your stories, but it's hard enough to finish one, not to talk of two or more. If you ever get around to writing one for FFT, tell me about it and I'll try to get around to reading it. kicks homework  
Thank you very much about the chapter. I wanted to get Beowulf out and on the way to developing a personality beyond that really nice guy'.  
  
Hey Luna. Meh, perception is relative. Hm, about Beowulf...well, you know that I'm fond of writing angsty, dramatic stuff, right? I really couldn't stomach doing another happy-happy-love' thing like the first part of the interlude. At least he seems to have more of a handle on things than Reis used to. And yes, everyone needs lots of love! ;  
Thanks about the war thing, too. It's difficult to place oneself into the mindset of that situation.  
Ooh, AP English -- Hated it--I wasn't very good at writing analytical essays on books like _The Heart of Darkness_. You don't also have AP American History as well, do you? As much as I like history, I couldn't stand having to practice those discovery essays or whatever. Well, tell me...what is Sukisho?  
And ha! I'm not always that obvious with my previews!  
  
Thank you for reading! If you have any questions or comments, I'd love to hear them! And won't someone please tell me what is and isn't allowed in a PG-13 story? I mean, thirteen-year-olds are pretty out there nowadays, aren't they?  
  
Chapter 23: Born at Twenty-Eight (_Pains of the Giftgiver_): Well...I don't know. What would a man like for a birthday present?'


	26. 23: Born at Twenty Eight

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 23: Born at Twenty-Eight (_Pains of the Giftgiver_)  
  
My memory is strange. I can remember the exact words that anyone has ever told me at a moment's notice. I can easily summarize every book I've ever read, or I can just quote the entire thing if so prompted. I remember the exact colors, weather, actions and feelings of anything that has ever happened to me.  
  
--_One day, little Reis, you'll be able to do anything I can do...and maybe even better!_--  
  
I remember how in awe I was--maybe still am--of Mama.  
  
--_Hello, that's a nice case you have there. But with the way you've been running around, I won't ask if it's yours_--  
  
I remember the first words that I had ever heard Beowulf say, even if they weren't said to me, and I treasure everything he's told me ever since...maybe even his more shameless compliments.  
  
-- _I'm sorry to say that Miss Mintopolous is not a woman with the very best of morals_--  
  
I remember how irritating it was to hear Verden disrespect Peppermint, who wasn't even there to defend herself, and how odd his reasons for segregating the knights and the white mages are, even though he did explain a bit more during our talk two days ago.  
  
I remember how wonderful, how absolutely exhilarating it is to be touched by someone who loves me, whether it was Mama's cool hands when I had a fever, Papa's rough grip to make sure I didn't fall into the lagoon that Zirekile Falls is connected to, the twins tugging at my hands so that I'd follow them, and Beowulf's comforting embrace.  
  
I remember my death. I remember my rebirth. I remember what the price I paid for that miracle of life was...is.  
  
But for once, I've finally managed to forget something. However, I don't think this is something I was supposed to forget.  
  
With a heavy sigh I look down at my writing pad, where exactly one new sentence has appeared in the last hour or so. I want to finish this letter to Izlude by this afternoon, since today's my day off, but I'm just not in the mood right now. I fall back, my upper body bouncing a bit on my bed as my writing pad wobbles on my thighs. My pen rolls off the pad and the bed, and I hear it land with a dull noise. Oh well, I can always get it later.  
  
What am I forgetting?  
  
I want my head on my pillow. Maybe that'll help me relax enough to remember. I try to push myself back using my forearms as support, only for my hair to get caught beneath me. Hn. Nothing's going well.  
  
Well, at least this is something I can change.  
  
-----  
  
As I walk over to the barracks to meet with Beowulf for dinner, a strange feeling looms over me. I don't know, it be connected to him? Maybe I should ask him...oh, but I don't know what exactly to ask him. Is there something about you that I'm forgetting?'  
  
...No, never mind.  
  
Ah...oh well. Maybe if I don't think about it, the answer will come to me.  
  
Reaching the door of the barracks, I lightly knock twice. Wait a minute! is muffled slightly by the thick wooden door. It sounds like Beowulf...I must be early. Turning around, I look up into the star-speckled night sky. The moon is almost half of its potential, easily outdoing its celestial court as the brightest thing in the sky.  
  
Beautiful' doesn't begin to describe it.  
  
It's hard to cram something so wondrous, so beyond human comprehension into the narrowness that is the human language. It's almost...petty to do so.  
  
--tmptmptmp--  
  
Footsteps advance towards me, and there is the creak of the door as it is pushed out of its original setting. I don't turn around, not even when heavy arms are wrapped around my shoulders and a gentle kiss is applied to the top of my head. Good evening, Reis, he whispers, baritone voice gently caressing my too-sensitive hearing. I reach up to where his hands are, resting on my collarbone, and lightly grasp them.  
  
Good evening, Beowulf, my eyes linger on the vast celestial field just a moment longer before turning around slightly to get a good look at his face, there are a lot of stars out tonight, aren't there?  
  
he releases me, taking my right hand instead, it's a powerful night for magic.  
  
Really? Of course, I wouldn't know anything about it, but I suppose it sounds plausible. With all the stars tearing white holes into the vast blackness, the moon courageously leading their assault...it's all very striking. What sort of magic? I can't help but ask.  
  
Different sorts. It's usually Eastern magic that benefits, because that sort of magic is all about change, just like the phases of the moon, we start walking, Beowulf staring ahead as I look up at him, Ivalician magic is generally more simple in its fundamental design.  
  
Hm, I don't know... It seems to me that Ivalician magic is used to change people as well.  
  
He laughs, the sound low and cheerful. That's true. That's the very definition of magic, you know, to forcefully change the environment for your own benefit, I catch his eyes as he glances at me, a smile playing on his lips, but the fundamental difference is that Ivalician magic is mostly based on one's own willpower, while Eastern magic is also affected by the atmosphere, something beyond the spellcaster.  
  
I'm confused. Why is there that difference?  
  
There are different ways to learn the same thing, he explains, although it doesn't make a lot of sense. I suppose it's true, what with all the different cultures out there in the world today...they can't all have learned the same thing the same way, right?  
  
The first time I had ever seen magic was when Beowulf used it, that first time we went up to Bariaus Hill. I remember thinking that the potential for magic lying dormant in everyone was...a little scary. Those destructive energies of black magic, the healing properties of white magic, whatever else is beyond that...even if there are lots of different types of magic...  
  
During my stay here, I've witnessed more black magic than anything else.  
  
Scarlet may have once healed my wrist, and Beowulf placed a float spell--decidedly not a dark' sort of magic--on the bracelet he gave me, but overall those applications are few and far between.  
  
What is used more in war?  
  
I see, and I suppose I do. Maybe for some other countries that practice magic, they only use black magic in the same way that Beowulf did that first time, just to keep warm at night. Maybe that's the best way to use those energies within.  
  
It's too late for those who've learned otherwise, though...  
  
We walk, immersed in a comfortable silence, until we reach a restaurant with an outdoor area. Even if the weather is cooling down, it's not so uncomfortable that staying indoors is the only option...although, if I wanted to I could eat in the outdoors area while a snowstorm raged on. I wouldn't like to, but I could.  
  
Sitting down at a cozy table in the corner, I take a menu from the smiling waitress that comes to our table and idly flip through it. We've been to this place many, many times before and I do like the food. I wish we could venture out of this town and travel to other places, though. I was able to see a bit of Warjilis on the way over here, but I want to see it with Beowulf. Over there, they eat creatures caught from the sea. I've never had anything like that before. I wonder if it's any good?  
  
What're you thinking?  
  
Hm? I look up from my menu, which is flat against the table. Why do you ask?  
  
Well, you just suddenly started smiling, he leans forward a bit, and even in the relative dark of the night I can see the interest in his eyes, it was cute.  
  
I sigh. I was thinking about food.  
  
Are you that hungry? There's a small grin now present on his face. You don't eat very much. Order as much as you want, I don't mind.  
  
It's not like I need that much food to survive a day of writing...or, for that matter, for a goodnight kiss and sleeping ten or eleven hours. I feel like a drain on his money, even when all I usually order is a chocobo-and-selseta salad...in fact, I think I'll order that. It's really alright, I don't need that much food.  
  
He leans back. Whatever you like, he gazes at me, you know, you're really a lot like a noblewoman.  
  
...? Why...do you say that?  
  
Well, you're very graceful in everything you do, well, not really... and a lot of them don't eat very much.  
  
--_Lionel is prosperous while the rest of Ivalice withers due to the war, which has lead to famine and lawlessness_--  
  
Well, even if the nobles are so much more privileged than the commoners, they'd still be affected by that part of the war, right? Because of the war?  
  
Slowly he shakes his head. No, because noblewomen have to have a certain slenderness in order to fit into their dresses, he pauses, frowning slightly, Sis was always concerned about that every time she was on break away from school.  
  
...Oh. That's very different from the mentality of hunters and commoners. Pretty interesting about that difference...but also a bit sad.  
  
Excuse me, are you ready to order?  
  
I look up at the waitress, and, after a glance at Beowulf, I hand over my menu. Selseta salad with chocobo, please.  
  
she writes something down on her pad of paper, my menu under one arm, and you, sir?  
  
Flank of bull demon, well done, he says, handing her his menu. She nods and takes it while writing down something, then leaves. The only thing I don't like about this restaurant is that they only serve water after five. I would've liked some tea right now.  
  
Well, we don't always get what we want...  
  
I glance around, noticing that Beowulf's dark eyes are on me, his face showing a bit of confusion. What is it? I'm not sure I like that look.  
  
His eyebrows scrunch together. Your hair looks shorter.  
  
Ah, he finally noticed. That's because I cut it earlier today.  
  
he says, his face now blank. Incidentally, I can also hear him mutter, I liked it better when it was longer.  
  
I lean forward, letting locks of my now shoulder-length hair brush against my collarbone. Don't worry, it grows out quickly, I smile as he stares at me with wide eyes. I like it when he forgets about my hearing because then he says more interesting things than usual.  
  
Of course, you're always nothing short of beautiful, but... he frowns slightly, you know, your hearing is intimidating.  
  
It's usually a nuisance. Sorry about that.  
  
Smiling now, he looks away. It's okay. I just forgot, that's all, his eyes are aimed at the sky, maybe I should make a change too.  
  
Hm? What would you change?  
  
I don't want him to change. I want him to always be the Beowulf I met, even though that really isn't possible. Still, though...  
  
I don't know, his voice is tinged with real amusement now, maybe a beard?  
  
But I already don't really like kissing him when he doesn't shave because it's scratchy and irritating. I can get used to it, but... Does it have any advantages?  
  
No, not really, he gives me a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the skies above, but what do you think?  
  
I think he shouldn't do it. I also think he's trying to prove a point. I think you'd look older, there, a nice, neutral comment.  
  
He's frowning slightly as he gives me his full attention. Really? It's bad enough that my birthday's approaching--  
  
What?  
  
--_I'm a Libra. October fourth_--  
  
..._Oh_.  
  
--and I don't really...Reis?  
  
I glance over at him, momentarily startled.   
  
Is something wrong? Beowulf studies my face. You froze up for a moment.  
  
It's nothing, I smile, though it feels too broad to be on my face, but if you're really that concerned, maybe you shouldn't do it.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at this. I suppose you're right, he looks like he's on the verge of saying something else, but our waitress reappears with our plates of food. We lapse into another comfortable silence as we focus on our food, but...  
  
Well, it's no wonder I've been feeling uneasy.  
  
Today...tonight is September twenty-first. In other words...  
  
I basically have twelve days to find Beowulf a birthday present.  
  
But...well...I don't exactly know...what would a man like for a birthday present?  
  
...Oh, great.  
  
-----  
  
Idly, I wander around the shopping area. It seems smaller now. It really doesn't have anything of interest when it comes to items, except for the cloth shop. However, this isn't about me.  
  
It's about the fact that I really don't know what Beowulf likes.  
  
Does he have a hobby? Something he likes to do when he's not working or with me? Or maybe an item he likes?  
  
--_My favorite foods are all sweet stuff...pastries, scones with strawberries and cream, Riovanes sweets, caramel anything..._--  
  
I know he likes sweets, but with my nonexistent magical abilities I can't even hope to light the stove in the church kitchen. I might light up myself again, and this time it might actually hurt. Plus, I want to do something else, something new.  
  
What can I give him? Obviously it has to be something he likes, something meaningful.  
  
Either he doesn't have many things he likes, or I don't know what they are.  
  
I like learning about him. There's no way I can ever stop uncovering something new about him, whether it be reactions or habits, and I want to take my time to slowly uncover all the varied and many layers that make him who he is.  
  
Right now, though, I'm a little pressed for time.  
  
What else, what else...  
  
--_Reis, you're very beautiful_--  
  
Well...I know he likes me.  
  
...  
  
I look down at the tips of my black boots. That isn't...exactly what I had in mind for a birthday gift. Besides, that...I don't really want to say that on so-and-so day will be the day I have sex with him. That's a little too...rigidly planned for me.  
  
Besides, who'd be the one getting the present in that situation?  
  
What else, then?  
  
Hello, Miss Reis!  
  
I look up to see Chiroseau walking towards me. Ah, maybe he'd know! Good afternoon, Sir Chiroseau. Are you on patrol right now? It's not exactly the most intelligent question I could ask, considering that he's wearing his uniform, but...  
  
Yes, right until one, he smiles down at me, although his dark blue eyes have a hint of concern dwelling within them, are you okay? You seemed a little lost there for a moment.  
  
Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking, I must've looked really weird... actually, I have a question, if you don't mind?  
  
He laughs warmly at this. Certainly not, Miss Reis. What is it?  
  
Ah, okay. Since you've known Beowulf for a long time, do you know if he has any hobbies...or things he likes?  
  
I feel pretty stupid for asking that.  
  
Have I been neglecting him? I mean, first forgetting when his birthday was, and now this...  
  
Well, that just means it's absolutely necessary that I get him the very best gift that I can get!  
  
Well, actually, now that I think about it, not really, Chiroseau frowns, of course, up until recently, we really haven't had much in the way of leisure time.  
  
Oh, really? Because Cardinal Draclau was still around, right?  
  
Yes, he often would send the both of us out to...perform our duties as Temple Knights, he glances at me, then smiles tightly, no, we didn't have much time to cultivate any hobbies, but you could always ask him.  
  
I wonder...Temple Knights really are secretive, even moreso back in Murond. Well, it's too bad. I see. Thank you very much.  
  
With a bit of a telling look, Chiroseau smiles widely all of a sudden. Kadmus' birthday, right?  
  
I sigh inwardly. Yes. I just...I just want to find the perfect gift for him because...he's done so much for me, shyly, I glance up into his thoughtful expression, but, please don't tell him that I'm looking. I want it to be a surprise, whatever it is.  
  
Of course, he pats my head in that fatherly way of his that he always does, his gloved hand an oddity because Beowulf almost always touches me with bare hands, you're very dedicated, aren't you, Miss Reis? I wish you the best of luck, he removes his hand and smiles at me just before he leaves, heading northward.  
  
I need all the luck I can get.  
  
-----  
  
Ten days and counting.  
  
Ten days and counting and still nothing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
It's such a depressing word. Nothing'. The antonym is everything', but one shouldn't expect to have everything. But nothing is different. People can have nothing to look forward to, nothing to have, nothing.  
  
Like me, once.  
  
For nearly eight years, I was the epitome of nothing, a vast black sky with no stars, no moon, just a deep, regretful black. With no hopes, no dreams, I just wanted to sink into a sleep that would let me finally forget.  
  
Now, I have something. A something that's like the first star of the night, hovering in-between a time that is neither afternoon or evening, shining weakly.  
  
It's still something, and that is always greater than nothing.  
  
I owe people for this. Chiroseau, Peppermint, Izlude. My friends.  
  
But most of all, I owe Beowulf. My...my precious love.  
  
It's getting to me. It's really getting to me that I still don't have anything for him, not even an inkling of an idea.  
  
I have nothing for him.  
  
I hate that word.  
  
With resolve, I make my way out of the library just as the bells strike twelve in their overly loud, overly annoying way and head for the barracks. We haven't seen each other since that dinner; it seems every time I come over he's on patrol, covering for a sick knight. If he's on patrol now, I'm going to find him and set a time when we can talk.  
  
It's very demanding of me. Well, that's a good thing to be every so often.  
  
As I reach the barracks' door, my left hand forms into a solid fist. I'm in the mood to pound something. As I raise my fist, the door swings open and I reflexively step back and lower my hand. There are two knights, both of whom I don't have names to but have seen before. Oh, Miss Dular. If you're looking for Sir Kadmus, he's in his office, the blond on the right says with a smile, although...  
  
--_I guess, but it's not, you know, very curvy. Nice hips, but she doesn't look very soft to hold_--  
  
Thank you, I murmur. I find it funny...I seem to be getting more prone to becoming irritated by petty things lately. It shouldn't matter...but somehow it still affects me.  
  
I used to have a lot more control...  
  
Stepping through the door that one of them holds open for me, I quickly walk past the empty bunks and through the small hallway leading up to his office, my boots making insistent tapping noises that herald my appearance. Beowulf looks up at me when I close his door a little harder than necessary. I don't want anyone to interrupt us.  
  
Reis...is something wrong? He looks worried. I suppose I should've used my voice to announce my arrival, not my boots and the door. I smile, hoping to diffuse some of the weirdness I seemed to have created.  
  
Not at all, unless you count the nothing' I have for him...then a lot of things are wrong, I just wanted to talk to you, that's all. It's been awhile.  
  
Oh, I see. Three days is a long time, he grins, come over here.  
  
Easily I acquiesce, primly sitting on his lap when he reaches out for me. I wanted to ask you something, I start, trying not to enjoy the feeling of his fingers softly stroking through my hair too much.  
  
His other hand is resting on my thigh, lightly plucking at a wrinkle on my dress. What is it?  
  
There is no way to make this sound less ridiculous, especially when we've known each other for about six months now. Do you have anything you like to do in your spare time?  
  
Hm. That's a good question, why? not really.  
  
What? Even I have something I like to do for fun. Sewing is fun, even when I was using it to just clear my mind and not think. Are you sure? I ask, as if he wouldn't know.  
  
His hands stop moving as a frown deepens on his face. Well, I liked reading when I was in Lesalia. You know, books on the heroes and legends of Ivalice. That sort of literature is impossible to find in Lionel, though, so I've only been reading magical theory books, the frown smoothes away as he smiles lightly at me, they're very boring.  
  
I...see. This is starting to look a bit hopeless... Is there anything else you like?  
  
The hand on my thigh moves up, past my hip and onto my back. I like you, he whispers as his face nears mine, I love you...  
  
Just before our lips touch, I notice the end of his scarf. It's white, though it looks a bit off, and the end dangling down seems a bit frayed...  
  
Oh!  
  
I pull away. How long have you had this scarf?  
  
He doesn't answer, so I glance up at his face...he seems very surprised.   
  
Ah, yes? Did I do something wrong?  
  
Don't do that, in his brandy eyes, irritation and amusement seem to be struggling valiantly against each other,   
  
I guess I should've waited until after the kiss... I'm sorry.  
  
It's okay, he seems distracted as I reach out and undo the scarf, holding it out before me. Hm, this material is very thin. It's not suitable for winter at all, and the threads are too tightly woven to provide any air from circulating properly during the summer... anyway, it's just part of the uniform. Why do you ask?  
  
Hm, the workmanship on this is pretty shoddy as well...huh? Oh, no reason. I was just curious, think of something else to say... I imagine you must get sick a lot during the winter.  
  
He shrugs. It's winter, and this is a small building. Colds and a slight fever are the worst I get.  
  
You should move out, I mutter, studying the scarf some more. Of course, silk would be pretty extravagant for a scarf, and not at all advantageous, so...  
  
I should, shouldn't I? That was a weird tone to hear Beowulf speak in...very deep and almost melancholy. I look up from the scarf, studying his features. No different, but he feels...I feel that his demeanor has changed.  
  
Well, if you don't want to get sick from being in these close quarters with over twenty other men, then maybe you should, seems logical to me.  
  
He resumes threading his fingers through my hair...ah, that's nice. Of course, if I were to get sick, you'd take care of me, right?  
  
I thought I was the one who was supposed to ask the weird and obvious questions. Of course I would, I'd go down to Bariaus Valley and hunt a chocobo and make chocobo soup everyday for him until he got better. Although, I don't have a weapon to hunt with...but if Beowulf was sick, he wouldn't be able to stop me from borrowing his sword either.  
  
I'd like that, he says slowly, and I'd like to move out for other reasons, too.  
  
Hm? You're lucky you can make that choice for yourself, though living in the church isn't bad at all. At least the bath is close.  
  
he doesn't say anything else, so I go back to studying the scarf. But with my ears, I can't help but pick up something else, something all the more real with that mesmerizing quality of his voice.  
  
I'd also like to make that choice for you, too.  
  
I don't react as if I heard. Did he want me to hear that? Even if he did...  
  
It's a complicated issue.  
  
-----  
  
Nine days and counting.  
  
Nine days and I have something. It's small, but it's growing steadily.  
  
I've never made a scarf before. There's a first time for everything, right?  
  
The material is a beige color. Well, it's a speckled beige, but I thought it looked nice. It's a strong material, thin and light but still protective. It cost a lot, but it was worth it.  
  
Of course it was worth it.  
  
All I need to do is cut it into the appropriate size and sew up the ends so that it doesn't look rough. I had briefly considered knitting a scarf, but yarn is very irritating to certain types of skin and it wouldn't be very good for the summer.  
  
I also never learned how to knit, but I'm a fast learner.  
  
My lantern is glowing cheerily beside me as I lean back against my bed and slowly cut the material. I want no mistakes, or as little as humanly possible.  
  
Maybe that means I can make it perfect.  
  
-----  
  
Sluggishly, I leave the library at the end of a less-than-successful day. That is to say, the words looked like funny blobs and squiggly lines. I don't really care, I've had more important things to do than to translate something about the Church's involvement with the Ivalician military as a whole and separately. Not to say I would've cared normally, but...  
  
Five hours of sleep a night does horrible things to my head. I should've learned that the first time around...I yawn widely and stretch my arms up and back.  
  
It was worth it, though.  
  
October fourth and the scarf is finished.  
  
I reach my room and enter, casting a wary--and weary--eye at the mess that's accumulated in the rush to finish the present. Unwashed clothes are strewn across the floor and on my perpetually unmade bed. The only thing that looks vaguely pristine is the neatly folded scarf on top of my valise.  
  
After kicking most of the clothes underneath my bed and straightening the bed sheets, I change into a simple dress over a long-sleeved shirt. I took a bath this morning...well, I nearly drowned in the bath this morning, but it's a lot less humiliating than mistaking a student for a long-dead younger brother. If there had been other people there...well, they already don't think much of me. It can't hurt to fuel their beliefs some more.  
  
While tugging on my boots, I stare at the innocent-looking scarf on my valise. I worked tirelessly over that thing, throwing myself into every stitch I placed upon it. This was especially true at night, since I was fighting both sleep and imperfection.  
  
I did the best I could. Even if it's not perfect, it's all I can do.  
  
As much as I wish I could, I can't be perfect for him.  
  
Will he like it? I know he'll say he likes it even if he doesn't, but...  
  
I hope he likes it.  
  
God, that's all I want.  
  
Well, time to go and find him. I grab some money from the valise without bothering the scarf. I want to treat him to dinner, then bring him back here and give him his present. If something else should also happen...well, I'm too tired. It's just as well anyway.  
  
I steadily walk to the barracks, which is a good sign. The night sky blankets the scenery, improving it somewhat. The moon is large and round, reaching its true majesty among the countless stars. Is it even more indescribable than usual?  
  
I wonder...  
  
Then I reach the door of the barracks and my wondering stops.  
  
I haven't seen Beowulf in awhile...not since I decided to start on the scarf. He must be worried.  
  
Sorry...  
  
I knock on the door and wait. There's a lot of loud discussions going on behind the solid door. Presently, the door opens, revealing Chiroseau's cheerful face. Miss Reis! It's wonderful to see you tonight. Kadmus hasn't been concentrating on his work.  
  
...Ah, I see. Is he here?  
  
He's in his office, moping, he opens the door wider, beckoning me to enter, someone called him old'. Or maybe it was a lot of people, I don't know.  
  
I smile, feeling a bit confused. But he doesn't look old at all.  
  
Chiroseau grins down at me as he escorts me to Beowulf's office. And he doesn't act like it either, right?  
  
A laugh bursts out of me before I have a chance to swallow it back. I remember! But it's still true.  
  
I think there's nobody else he'd rather hear that from right now, he says lightly as he knocks on the strangely-closed door, Kadmus! Miss Reis is here! Nodding to me, he leaves, joining the general ruckus going on in the main room.  
  
The door quickly opens, and Beowulf is there, smiling widely. Though...it looks odd for one of his smiles. Ah, there you are. Where have you been for the last week?  
  
I was busy, I smile at his expression, which is a mixture of confusion and curiosity, I'll give it to you later.  
  
I can't wait, he murmurs, although it's muffled over the din, does this mean you have something else planned?  
  
I nod. Let's go.  
  
He follows me down the length of the room. Where are we going?  
  
Out to eat, and as soon as I say that I hear his footsteps stop. I turn around,   
  
Oh, let me get some money... I take one of his hands and start for the door,   
  
I'm treating you, I say this in a voice that makes it absolutely clear that I will be doing exactly as I say. I'm suffering from sleep deprivation and I really don't want to get into a discussion on who should pay for what while standing,   
  
Beowulf opens his mouth to say something, but then he takes a fairly discreet look around and seems to think over his words. Yes, love, I take my own look and interestingly enough, while everyone is still talking, they're all watching us. Some aren't even hiding it.  
  
Alright, most of them.  
  
We exit the barracks and make it into an alley leading directly to the shopping area before he clears his throat. Are you okay? You seem a little...distracted, that's an interesting way of putting it.  
  
I'm fine, he makes a sound of disbelief at this and I look over at him,   
  
Have you been getting enough sleep? You have rings under your eyes, I sigh, and you really didn't have to go through all that trouble. I want to pay for dinner.  
  
I don't believe this. But Beowulf, it's your birthday.  
  
He looks taken aback for a moment before stopping, a small smile on his face...although, it doesn't look like a very happy smile. It is, isn't it? He looks up at the infinite sparkling stars in the sky.   
  
Isn't...isn't a birthday something to celebrate? Especially since it's his birthday... You don't like it?  
  
...I used to count the years by my birthday. A year older, and always looking forward to survive just another year, and another, and another... he sighs, keeping his eyes affixed on the sky, and now, I can't help but look back and wonder if I did anything with those years. If I did anything useful...if I'm doing anything useful.  
  
I step up to him, looking up...maybe even at the same star he's gazing at. Aren't you?  
  
He looks down then, gazing at me with eyes of no feeling. Hollow eyes.  
  
What...what is it?  
  
I want to understand.  
  
He shakes his head. Probably not.  
  
I don't understand, I burst out, although the words aren't very impassioned...they're just there, you've helped me a lot, Beowulf. You've helped me so much...  
  
Even if it's just one person, isn't that enough?  
  
You can't have everything. Some people are lucky just to have one thing.  
  
I know I am...  
  
He touches my face, cupping it with his roughened hands. You say that as if you didn't do anything, Reis.  
  
I...well... I didn't. Not really.  
  
To be helped, you have to want it first, he murmurs before turning around and facing the way we just came from, I'm not really in the mood for a celebration or anything like that tonight. I hope you don't mind.  
  
No, it's fine, I really like how I said that like I actually meant it, you don't even want the gift I have for you...?  
  
I spent all those days away from him working on it, so if he doesn't want it now...  
  
He looks over at me and smiles. Some other time, he reaches out to me, here, I'll walk you back. I'm very sorry about all of this.  
  
I know. You can't help your feelings, and I take his hand.  
  
I know he's sorry and he can't help it. I can feel it more than the weariness pressing down on my shoulders.  
  
But other than the intellectual comprehension of his words, I don't really understand. I only know how to associate a birthday with celebration, thanks to my wonderful family.  
  
Even if he can only associate it with a waste of time, I can show him that it's a time of celebration if he'd let me...  
  
--_There are different ways to learn the same thing_--  
  
Or, to interpret the same thing, right?  
  
-----  
  
Was it worth it?  
  
I didn't know that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't care for his own birthday.  
  
If I had asked, would he have told me?  
  
The point is, I didn't ask. I just assumed he saw it the same way I did.  
  
Here I am, lying on my bed, replaying every line said tonight. How concerned I was with my own tiredness, about the work I did on that scarf--his gift, how I was so worried about his reaction to my gift.  
  
Was that...just me being selfish?  
  
But it'll be better tomorrow. I'll give him the scarf the next time I see him. He'll apologize a lot about his actions tonight and we'll get into a heated discussion on who pays for the next meal because he'll want to pay like always but I still owe him for tonight. A bit different, but we've handled a lot of things. It'll all be swept under the bed, so to speak.  
  
How horridly wonderful, then, that I have such precise memories.

-End to chapter 23-

Hm. Actually, I wasn't planning for this chapter to be so angsty at the end. In fact, it was supposed to be very happy. Oh well.  
  
-As far as I know, this chapter references every chapter in some form or another except for chapters 3, 4 and 15-17. There are a few very obvious connections and a few very oblique ones, but I don't know how all that somehow occurred.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Er...good job, Mavina? I'm happy that you're still reading, and I can't wait to see what you think!  
  
Hey, The Burning Misery. Yeah, the one thing worse than having homework clog up writing time is having no ideas to write about.  
Yes, yes there was symbolism. In the three-sentence summary I wrote out weeks before I even got started on the chapter. But all the possible connections...eh, water (as well as earth) is a feminine element about bringing life forward, tying into the fact that both Verden and Reis have the same basic ideas (complex practically in Reis' case, and Verden...) about women and they both happen to have water zodiac signs; they both happen to have an element of holiness to them, what with Verden being a priest and Reis turning into a Holy Dragon. So yeah, it's there. Somewhere.  
Looking back, Reis is really sarcastic...I guess I can't help it. But yeah, I really like the idea of exploring Ivalice's past and present culture because I'm weird like that. Go ahead, throw those shoes, I've got [Catch] in my skillset!  
  
insane-android-ayako (what a telling name!), I'm very happy to hear that! I don't know when you'll come across this note, but thanks for your support!  
  
Yo, Luna. I was wondering if something had happened...I guess I take it for granted that I'd see a review from you by Friday at the latest. Anyway, IE sucks and I would've loved to see if you had any further remarks about what you agreed and disagreed with as far as Verden's views went. I was really spaced out when I wrote that whole dialog. To tell you the truth, I can barely remember the reasons why half the FFT antagonists are antagonists in the first place other than being possessed by Lucavi, except for Wiegraf...who ended up becoming Lucavi. Hn.  
Ew. Well, I wish you all the best on all those assignments, or if you don't believe in luck like my mom, then I'm sure that you'll do your best. And I liked AP History better than English ;;  
Oh, it's a yaoi game'? I don't really consider those text-adventure things as games. Anyway, I have a Mac, so I'll never get to play it. That and yaoi never really appealed to me. shrugs  
  
Thank you for reading! I give up--we're down to single-digit chapters left, so I'm not going to be anal about only talking about the story in the review' ...let's be friends! Let's not overdo it though, okay? Anyway, if you have any questions or comments, I'd like to hear them!  
  
Chapter 24: The Act of Worship: Even if I do look bad in front of everybody, I don't care. The only judgment that really matters in the end is God's, anyway.  
  
I don't want to be held down by regrets anymore.


	27. 24: The Act of Worship

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 24: The Act of Worship  
  
Oh, Reis. Is it already noon?  
  
Yes. Are you busy? If you want, we can just see each other for dinner...  
  
Hm? I'm not going to pass up a chance to see you twice a day. So, we have...forty minutes?  
  
...Actually, I have to get back at a quarter to one...  
  
Oh, I see. Well then, I guess we should make the most of our time, right?  
  
I was thinking the same thing...  
  
-----  
  
I don't see why exactly it's so important to be reminded in various literature that Ajora is the son of God, the blessed savior who brought the Lord's words and bestowed it upon us. When I think about it deeply enough--which I tend to be forced into while translating--I don't see why his status would be so special compared to the rest of us.  
  
Aren't we all God's children?  
  
So, I don't see why Ajora was so important compared to, say, the local shopkeeper or adventurer. I'm probably biased because of the fact that I wasn't raised to believe in the Glabados faith from childhood onward, but it still doesn't make much sense to me. Is it because he used pretty words to form pretty ideals?  
  
_This is my word, the word of the Almighty Lord Himself. Those that disbelieve, that cannot let the warmth of His glow flow from my being into your heart, are nothing more than heretics, living the emptiest of lives. And when your time is up, your soul unshackled from its mortal body and ready for the everlasting paradise that is the Holy Father's home, the Lord shall close the gates of Heaven on you Himself, for you have forsaken His holy words, His all-encompassing love, and for that you are destined to become no more than a pawn for Lucavi._  
  
For someone who holds such all-encompassing love', he certainly isn't very forgiving.  
  
When I'm forced to read such contradicting statements riddled with commas and self-righteousness, I can't help but get annoyed. It paints such a horrid picture of God. A normal father can't afford to be so fickle with his affection; I would think that the father of all would be far less so, if even at all.  
  
I think that everybody must be really desperate to follow such a person who would say such things, and to even bestow the title of saint' onto him. It doesn't seem right for Ajora to be labeled constantly, whether by his own devices or by general opinion, as _the_ son of God', one who touches both humanity and divinity.  
  
Do...do we really need an intermediary to translate our father's intentions to us?  
  
Leaning back in my chair, I flip a few pages back. While I'm near the end of the tome, there is a whole section dedicated to dictating the most notable of Ajora's sermons. Because of his choppy way of talking, it's a very slow and boring process to translate his words. I don't know why I'm doing it when there are countless other books in modern Ivalician that pour over each and every sermon, but I might as well. There was one that caught my eye earlier, one that I just can't help but dwell over. Where...ah, here it is.  
  
_My Father, our Lord, has bidden me to bestow His message to we of Ivalice, we, the true believers: we are not bound by His will. Indeed, it is the opposite, for in His boundless love He has granted us the greatest gift of all: the ability to choose our own lives for ourselves. He trusts that we will not be lead astray, but instead will use this boon to better ourselves, to bring us to such a way that we will be approaching our Heavenly Father, although of course never being of His level or surpassing His infinite powers._  
  
God has granted us free will. Although Ajora wasn't completely right in his assessment of free will'--it's extremely rare for a commoner to become a noble, not to talk of a titled one, just by trying--I find it interesting that he would label this as a gift'.  
  
Free will' means that God has no right to shape our lives for us, good or bad.  
  
He has no cause to interfere. He won't stop wars, end famines, save children from becoming orphans in either body or soul. It's up to humanity to control themselves.  
  
That's the curse of free will.  
  
It's like a parenting technique that Mama often used on us. She allowed us to do what we wanted, in hope that we would learn from our mistakes. She didn't stop us from touching the stove while it was hot. I learned from my mistake that first time. For Tyrei it took several more, and it certainly didn't stop him from making other kinds of mistakes.  
  
He seems to live on as the metaphor for humanity as a whole, unlike sensible, timid Quain.  
  
As for myself...well...  
  
It's always been so strange to me, after eight years of closing myself off from the world, from within, to pick up after that enforced hibernation and make choices. I don't have to guide Beowulf like I had to with my brothers, but a lot of my choices still reach out to him, dragging him into the core of the problem whether it affects him or not.  
  
It's a thoroughly uncomfortable feeling, knowing that many of my decisions will affect another person.  
  
There are so many decisions.  
  
-----  
  
Do you like it?  
  
Yeah, it's a great scarf. Very comfortable. So, this why you hid yourself away for over a week. I was really lonely, you know.  
  
I'm sorry...I just wanted to make it as perfect as I possibly could.  
  
_You_ have work on perfection?  
  
...Of course I do.  
  
You're really cute when you blush like that. Anyway, maybe I should get you a scarf too...premade, of course. I don't think I could ever work with a thread and needle quite like you do, love.  
  
I've had a bit of practice...but why? I don't need it...  
  
Hm, well, I don't know how many full-necked blouses you have, but it seems like another good way to hide these marks...  
  
...Oh. You...you have a good point there.  
  
-----  
  
Because of our schedules, I normally see Beowulf once every few days. We go out either to dinner or lunch. I can easily accommodate his schedule, because it's not fair to his knights if he changes their shifts for the sake of our relationship.  
  
Beowulf...is a very fair-minded person usually.  
  
We don't go out for lunch most of the time anymore, though. The barracks are empty around that time. Though, we still keep his office door closed as a precaution.  
  
I'm sitting on his lap, legs dangling off of one of the arms of the chair as my head rests on his shoulder. His arms are around my shoulders and waist; mine are similarly confined to his upper body as well. His scarf is on a stack of paperwork; in fact, it was the one he had been working on when I entered. Only the top button on his jacket is undone, shining gold in front of my eyes. Mine are all undone except for the bottom one, strangely enough.  
  
This is comfortable.  
  
His body shifts slightly in his chair before I feel his lips on my right temple, contradictorily soft and firm at the same time, then again on my cheek. I smile as I turn and tilt my head up, the meeting of our lips accompanied by the now-familiar tingle in my belly strumming up and down like the lute player's fingers did on his lute at Miss Anna's concert. Almost painful in its duration yet pleasant at the same time, this feeling has been occurring more often recently. His fingers brush through a lock of hair by my face, and I reach out with my left hand to grasp his other shoulder, pulling him towards me--  
  
Excuse me, Sir Kadmus... the door begins to creak in protest as it is opened, and Beowulf turns his head towards the door so fast that I barely blink in response.  
  
Wait a minute! And just like that, the door closes. God, doesn't anyone knock anymore? He mutters, looking completely irritated now. I can understand.  
  
I don't knock at your office door, I murmur as I gently move my legs off of their perch and stand up, albeit a bit wobbly from my earlier position. He gives me a small smile as he reaches for his scarf.  
  
You're different. I'm not doing anything I wouldn't normally do when you enter, he eyes my hands--or my breasts, I can never be quite sure anymore--as I try to work the buttons into their proper places, I can help you with that if you like.  
  
Right. The last time you said that, it took you ten minutes, my fingers fumble at the second to last button, but it goes in the second time around, is it okay?  
  
He nods, turning his attention to the door. You can come in now.  
  
The door swings open, and a man who looks like he's from the Eastern Lands comes in. Though his eyes lay upon Beowulf at first, he quickly glances at me, then starts. Oh! Uh, good afternoon, Miss Dular, I bow in response and he quickly refocuses his attention, um, Sir Kadmus, I'm sorry, but there's a disturbance at the south gate that requires your attention.  
  
Oh, I'll be there shortly. Thanks, Oyama, the knight quickly leaves as Beowulf stands up, throwing me an apologetic look, well, duty calls.  
  
Ah... I hope it's nothing too serious.  
  
Me neither, we start walking to the main door of the barracks, it's a little frustrating, though.  
  
I look up at him. What do you mean?  
  
I know what he means.  
  
He shakes his head. I'm not complaining, but I wish we had more time to ourselves, his eyes hold a bit of uncertainty as he glances at me, though I guess I should be grateful we even get any at all. It seems like time is always against us, he laughs suddenly, oh well.  
  
...I feel the same way, but with Bariaus Valley sopping with the torrential rains that have been occurring as of late, it'd be a waste of time, but, I guess we'll have to make do with what we have, right?  
  
Yes, you're right, leaning over, he kisses me high on the cheek, a gentle caress on the cheekbone, I've got the late morning shift tomorrow, and with these rains I'm not planning on dinner anytime soon...unless you want to?  
  
I shake my head. He could catch a cold. Thursday, then?  
  
That's fine, he opens the front door, our eyes greeted with the sight of copious amounts of water falling from the light, day-colored clouds, try not to get too wet.  
  
...You too, there are the loud, thickly splashing sounds of our boots as they stomp into the water, the sound of his footsteps disappearing the closer I am to the church, although I could probably keep tracking him if I liked.  
  
Even if I have to run to and from the barracks in order to spend three-fourths of an hour in a drab office with him and in constant fear of being interrupted, it's worth it to spend some time with him. After all, Bariaus Valley is no longer available to us, and we can't just sit out in some abandoned area somewhere in town and kiss and touch. The physical side of our relationship is just as important as the emotional side--never more important, but the two often entwine together.  
  
We...make do with what we have. We have to. There's no other choice.  
  
If I were to lie to myself, anyway.  
  
-----  
  
The rain's so loud, isn't it?  
  
I don't know. I can barely hear it. I think it's more of those sensitive ears of yours.  
  
Probably...  
  
It's cold in here.  
  
Really? I can't tell...  
  
That's interesting. Can you feel this?  
  
Yes...maybe I should've made new gloves as well?  
  
Your neck's warm enough...I mean, it's okay. My old ones are good enough.  
  
...I didn't know you needed to warm your lips as well.  
  
Well, they're cold too. Can't you tell?  
  
Mm...  
  
-----  
  
Free will requires that one makes their own decisions.  
  
Decisions require making a logical, well-thought choice among a finite number of solutions most of the time. Yet, sometimes one can get away with not making a choice until someone else does it for them, or the decision to magically vanish.  
  
--tptptp--  
  
I stare at all the letters forming words blanketing the coarse paper that fills the space between two thick covers. Everything's there, but I can't make sense of it. Anxiously, my right hand taps out a steady rhythm with my pen. I've sighed out loud four times in the last hour.  
  
I know...I'm thinking about this more than it really needs. That's just something I can't help; I crave mulling over situations that may or may not exist. be one of the latter.  
  
With choices...I'm not used to making them. When I still had a family, it was expected that I would learn how to be a proper hunter, a caring wife, and a devoted mother. I liked that. It was simplistic and safe and I never had to think about the world outside my home. I was there, and the world was right with me. Not having a choice was fine in that setting.  
  
There's nothing wrong in living the way you're expected to.  
  
Then there was Murond. Murond Holy City, the island untouched adversely by the war--even moreso than Lionel. I didn't have a choice to make there, thank God. That was when I sewed almost obsessively, wanting, needing to forget. If I hadn't been eased out of my cocoon by Beowulf's comforting patience, if I had broken the red dragon's seal by myself while I was at Murond, I...there's no way I would've been able to take it.  
  
As disturbing as it is to admit to myself, I needed to run away from that. Without a reason, I'm not strong enough to face anything.  
  
How sad.  
  
Now, I seem to be constantly forced into making decisions. I could've said a decisive no' to Beowulf's date offer, I could've not said anything at all when he kissed me that first time, I could've stayed away from our place that Friday after the ball...there are so many things I could've done.  
  
Why did I do them? I only wanted to pick up some of that natural confidence he had, falling in love was not a factor ever expounded to me in my life.  
  
It's scary, thinking like this. There are so many times that I could've messed up in my choices, so many times I could've just let this relationship blow in the winds.  
  
But somehow, that wasn't an option either.  
  
I lean back in my chair, looking directly up into the glass that is the ceiling of the center of the library. It's not raining today. It's just as well, the constant pitter-patter would've gotten to me after awhile. At least this sort of thinking is fine in its own way.  
  
It would be rude to ask him, but I think Beowulf lets me determine how our relationship goes. It's only rude because it implies he has no control at all.  
  
Oh, that would be farthest from the truth.  
  
But I can't help but wonder what he expects out of it. Truthfully, I don't want to know. That'll lead to other kinds of decisions, like the choice that I don't want to make but it'd be the right thing to do. I just don't want to think about it.  
  
This decision is hard enough as is.  
  
We don't have to only meet in his office to fulfill our physical needs. After seven or eight, the dormitories I stay in are quiet, especially since it's already mid-October. I've got a nice, wide bed. It's annoyingly short, but...it could be worse.  
  
Of course I know what I'd be asking for if I suggested it to him.  
  
Would it be wrong to want that?  
  
I love him. He loves me.  
  
--_Ah, sex. Stay with me until the bells ring, and I'll teach you _everything_ you need to know about that word_--  
  
I think that, if I had learned about that from anybody other than Peppermint, I wouldn't be nearly so...accepting of that particular solution. It's a good thing I had, though, I mean...these are completely natural feelings, aren't they? Why should I have to deny my feelings? I'm not doing anything harmful to anybody else by wanting to act on them.  
  
And I do...I really want to.  
  
But...logically thinking this out, and making the active decision to tell Beowulf that I feel ready are two different things altogether.  
  
It's...embarrassing...something more than that. I mean, it's so forward to suggest something like that, and to admit that I've spent so much time thinking about it...  
  
I'm perfectly satisfied with what we're doing now. I'm not really in a rush to get it over with or something, I just...  
  
I'm curious.  
  
It's one thing to hear descriptions from another, and something else to experience it. That experience...I really want to share that with him.  
  
I want to share all of myself with him.  
  
-----  
  
Reis, are you okay?  
  
Hm...? I'm fine.  
  
You seem distracted. Are you sure you're alright?  
  
Of course. I was just thinking, that's all.  
  
What about?  
  
...How happy I am to be with you.  
  
...Really?  
  
Of course. I mean...even if you say that to be helped, you have to want it first', I still really appreciate how kind and patient you've been with me. Thank you, Beowulf.  
  
I...ah, well...you've really changed, you know that?  
  
I know. That's why I'm thanking you.  
  
-----  
  
Of course, waiting is an option as well.  
  
It's a nice night, with a dark sky lightly dusted with wispy clouds. There's a half-moon using one of the clouds as a veil, and the stars are sparse. Perhaps they're not planning their campaign tonight?  
  
I didn't feel like sleeping. My mind has been so preoccupied lately that all I do is roll around with a haze of misery clouding my thoughts. If Beowulf was there, he'd just hold me and everything would be fine. I love being held. It's a lot better than being outside in my nightgown and robe and being cold. Even if the weather doesn't affect me very much, I still like warm weather more.  
  
Of course, if he were in my bed, I wouldn't have a reason to be preoccupied either.  
  
Hm. Waiting...I don't like it.  
  
Waiting is not living, it's merely putting something on hold and hoping that something better will happen. That isn't...that isn't the way I want to live now. All waiting leads to is regret, unless you can convince yourself that something good came out of it.  
  
I could never be that optimistic.  
  
I don't want to regret anything. I want to live my life out to the fullest. I have a life that deserves this.  
  
But in this case, it's still a persuasive choice.  
  
Excuse me, what are you doing out here at this time?  
  
Oh. Scarlet. Pushing myself back from the hole in the wall I was staring out of, I look over to my left. She's there, wearing her requisite white mage robe, her arms crossed and hidden inside her large sleeves. Good evening, Miss Scarlet, she isn't exactly the first person that I would expect to talk to me, so I'm not sure what to say... it's a nice night, isn't it?  
  
Wintertime nights in Lionel are usually nice, she says in a bland tone, are you waiting for a nighttime rendezvous?  
  
Eh? Why would you ask that? I'm wary. That's an odd assumption to make.  
  
--_...You don't have to look so frightened. I'm not that petty_--  
  
Even if that's what she said, she hasn't exactly acted in the friendliest manner towards me.  
  
She simply rolls her shoulders in an elegant shrug. It's what Peppermint used to do. She was only caught because she went beyond the general safety of the nighttime hours.  
  
--_Men walking out of a white mage's room in daylight...what kind of message do you think that sends to all of parishioners?_--  
  
...Right, I remember. It was the reason why I really couldn't get righteously angry at Verden, other than at his underhanded comments towards her. But still... Is it really alright for you to tell me that that sort of thing is allowed at a certain time?  
  
turning her back onto me, she takes a step forward, then stops, it's not as if you would have to worry about any...unseemly conditions should you decide to take advantage of it.  
  
...  
  
I glare at her turned back, my hands clenching at my sides. Thank you for reminding me, I push out the words painfully through grinding teeth, furious and miserable all at once. I'm reminded every day, so of course I also would need her to toss in her commentary. There's a word for someone like her, I'm sure of it. I think we should both be thankful that I don't know it.  
  
Of course, that was a bit rude of me to say, a bit, is that all? you'll have to forgive me, you don't inspire the greatest feelings in many of us.  
  
Many of us' ...the white mages? All I do is breathe around them on the rare occasion I run into them. Why is that? I wouldn't mind knowing why they dislike me.  
  
Her arms lower to her sides, yet she still has her back to me. I suppose that would be because of Priest Buremonda's attentions towards you, the little extraneous cataloger, compared to us, who actually make a difference in this town. As for myself, you are irritating, but I suppose you have your uses, turning slightly, she looks at me, but, I do sincerely apologize for my earlier comment.  
  
...Hn. I lower my head. I accept your apology, though I'm not sure what to say about everything else. She makes it sound as if they all believe that Verden has completely neglected them for me...and that doesn't make any sense. Why would he do that?  
  
And anyway, one by one, her feet start moving towards the door on the right of mine, as far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you like. Everyone should take advantage of the life they have, because not even a healer can bring it back once it's been used up, she reaches out for the doorknob, then glances at me again, but in advance, please keep it down, with that, she enters her room and closes the door.  
  
...Is that so?  
  
-----  
  
Beowulf, can I ask you a question?  
  
Sure, what is it?  
  
Do you...do you think it's a good idea to act on one's feelings alone, even if it means going against established rules?  
  
...Ah, I'm with you, aren't I?  
  
Yes...  
  
Hm...alright, to be honest I think that normally it isn't a good idea, but in special cases--like you, love--it's more than worth it.  
  
Why is it normally a bad idea?  
  
Well, because I'm not a kid anymore. I have responsibilities and, as much as I'd like to push them all away, I can't ignore them for my own wants. And most rules do serve a viable purpose. I can't exactly lead by example if I pick what laws I'd like to follow and ignore the others. It's just not fair at all.  
  
...Oh. I see.  
  
-----  
  
Making a choice is one thing, but going through with it is another.  
  
The shopping area is nearly empty even though it's noon. I bought some thread and cloth in hopes that sewing would distract me. I guess there are some habits that are hard to get away from. But I don't want to go back to my room just yet. Sitting out here is fine.  
  
Beowulf should be around town somewhere since he has to pull a double shift today. I kind of want to go and find him, but he has a job to do. Just because I haven't been doing very much of my own job doesn't mean that I have to distract him from his more than necessary.  
  
Plus, he said something a couple days ago that made me think twice about everything.  
  
--_I can't exactly lead by example if I pick what laws I'd like to follow and ignore the others. It's just not fair at all_--  
  
Of course, I can't disregard that. It's how he feels, after all. Myself...I just don't know. I don't think it's particularly fair that a priest can tell me who I can and can't date, but it's a law I supposedly have to abide by. Because Beowulf has never imposed that sort of thing himself, I don't think it's hypocritical for him to say that and date me at the same time.  
  
It didn't cross my mind until he said that...but I'd never really considered that he might say no.  
  
It's embarrassing enough as is to make this choice, and especially to follow up on it. To hear him say no for whatever reason...I think I'd prefer to have never even tried reaching out to another person. No matter how he tried to put it, that sort of rejection would be beyond humiliating.  
  
That's the thing about the choices I have to make now.  
  
He has his own choices as well.  
  
I just thought...this progression was natural. Maybe I just don't understand.  
  
Are you okay, Miss Reis?  
  
No. Not really. I look over to my right and up into the worried eyes of Chiroseau. I was just thinking. Good afternoon.  
  
He nods in response. If you're troubled, I could find Kadmus for you. He may still be over at the north gate. I don't think we'll get invaded again if he's just talking to his girlfriend for ten minutes, he grins, although we'll be depending on you to save us again if we are.  
  
I giggle, a strange burst of happiness puncturing through my gloom. Beowulf wouldn't like that very much. He... I look down into my lap as a dark feeling comes over me, he didn't like it the first time.  
  
--_When we find this person, or if we run into a monster...I don't want you to fight_--  
  
That wasn't very fair of him.  
  
Well, you have to understand that, even with equality, it's hard for most men to let their girlfriends fight alongside them, would it be the same with women and their lovers? he just wanted to protect you.  
  
This discussion...I don't really want to bring up all those old feelings of hurt and irritation. I suppose. No, I don't want to distract him from his job.  
  
As you wish, he runs a gloved hand through his graying black hair, if you like, I'll take his place and listen. I'm supposed to be around here anyway.  
  
I appreciate the offer, but for some reason I'd rather not ask him how to find enough courage to invite his commander into my room at night. There has to be a different angle on this situation... I don't think I'm a very strong person.  
  
He laughs at this, sitting down next to me with his perfect posture. This coming from the woman who killed a behemoth in one blow?  
  
It was two, though it was already dying, it needed the mercy...I needed the mercy. but, I wasn't talking about physical strength, I... frowning, I turn my head away from Chiroseau's attentive face and focus on the roof of the local general store in front of me, emotionally, I'm weak.  
  
Wouldn't it have been easier on myself to say I'm not very strong' instead?  
  
...I don't think I'm very easy on myself.  
  
Emotionally weak people don't leave a safe place in order to fight, his voice is soothing and affectionate, by all accounts, you're very brave.  
  
I shake my head, still keeping my eyes focused on the roof. All these building are so boring. I did it because I felt I had to. It needed to be done, and I was the one that could do it. If there was another that could've done it, I would've stayed.  
  
...Really?  
  
I don't believe you. You're just downplaying yourself now, he sighs lowly, modesty is good, but don't take it too far. You have to be more decisive, more willing to back up your actions.  
  
...Well...   
  
Perhaps it's because the war has hardened me, but I believe that a person has to be willing to make a decision and stick with it, because... I look at him. I can't help it. I want to know... you only have this life. There's only this chance before heaven. Even if you make a choice that no one can agree with, if you have a reason to make that choice, then the only judgment that holds any weight at all is God's, he sighs again, the slight wrinkles on his face looking so much more deeper, you're young, so maybe my words are just words to you, but you should keep it in mind all the same.  
  
I...I like that. That way of thinking that can only be drawn from experience...it makes so much sense.  
  
Why am I brooding so much over this, anyway? It's not like I'm the one deciding for the both of us. All I can do is tell him how I feel, and from there he can make his own choices. It's not one or the other.  
  
With this sort of change, we're the ones making the choice.  
  
-----  
  
Mm...Reis, you seem to be in a good mood.  
  
Is it that obvious?  
  
Yeah. God, you have a great smile.  
  
It's not as wonderful as yours.  
  
...Did something happen? I want to keep recreating whatever it is that made you this happy.  
  
I heard some inspiring words from Sir Chiroseau.  
  
I can do that, too.  
  
... Temple means shrine. It's also the upper part of the face.'  
  
What about it? Hey, what's with that look?  
  
-----  
  
I'm so anxious.  
  
Beowulf's thumb makes light circles on the back of my hand, our fingers loosely entwined as we sit inside the hole in the wall that looks out towards Bariaus Hill. It's been awhile since we last sat here. For such an unobtrusive little place, there are a surprising amount of important memories with this place as a background.  
  
--_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to force you into doing anything you're not comfortable doing_--  
  
Ah...that wasn't so great of a time, but it was an important lesson in the importance of words and actions. I really hurt the both of us with my recklessness, but telling him then how I truly felt about myself, my many faults, and my apology...I needed that, I think. I needed to make mistakes.  
  
I need to learn.  
  
--_It's not something I like talking about, but for you...do you want to hear about my past?_--  
  
My poor Beowulf...before then, I couldn't even begin to imagine him as anything more than cheerful' and confident'. At that time, I saw just how he felt about what he'd gone through in his ever-expressive eyes. Pain, loneliness, humiliation...I was so naive to think that he was just two good things in an attractive packaging. And even with all that, he never did what I needed to do to survive, he didn't close off his self from the world.  
  
But, I wish my naive self had been right, if only for his sake.  
  
--_As I promised, I brought back something for you_--  
  
It hurt. Izlude...and even though later on I remembered...it would've been nice to stay in the illusion just a little more. If nothing else, it forced me to open up to Beowulf.  
  
Reality is...in its own way, it's not so bad.  
  
--_So...would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?_--  
  
Inwardly I laugh. Even if I hadn't understood at the time just what that meant...God, I can barely believe it! It's been seven months since our first meeting and six months of being together, half a year of understanding, of pain and happiness, of reaching outward and drawing in. Dependence, independence...I'm happy like this, whatever my relationship is with him.  
  
So, what's one more step?  
  
...My heart is beating so fast.  
  
I look over at Beowulf. There's a faint smile touching up the corner of his mouth as his eyes stare out straight ahead of him. After a moment of gazing at him, he blinks and glances over at me. What is it? His smile grows wider and he affectionately squeezes my hand when I smile at him.  
  
My face feels hot...  
  
W-what should I say? Beowulf, I... my smile grows wider as I desperately search for something to say, ...I love you.  
  
That...that's a start...right?  
  
He leans over, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, but he doesn't withdraw afterwards like he usually does. I love you, too, I hear him whisper just before his lips touch mine, slowly--almost achingly so--immersing me in a kiss that is...I can only describe it in an abstract way. It's like...it's like one step at a time into a cool pond, feet squishing into the soft mud until the water brushes up against the underside of the jaw. Every movement in the water brings a new rush of coldness, exhilarating in the sudden feeling, but even just standing still is nice as the body gets used to the water, warming even...then another movement brings a new rush.  
  
In my anxiety, this comfortable, exciting kiss is even greater than it should be, my heart pounding rapidly even as those tingles rush up and down my stomach.  
  
After too short of a time, we pull away, two sets of heavy breathing in the calm night air. All I can see are his dark eyes, and even without their vivid color they're still incredible to gaze into. There's a small smile of contentment decorating his face, standing out starkly among the shadows thrown over him.  
  
Yes. This is perfect.  
  
I breathe out, smiling nervously at his expression of unbridled interest. Oh...maybe I should've written something down to say...I can't think right now... I would like it if...if you stayed with me tonight.  
  
There. I've said it. It's immortalized in the winds, in the earth's memory. Reis Dular, the human/dragon hybrid, has finally said what she has wanted to for the last...month or two. What an amazing miracle!  
  
But the nervousness is still there...in fact, it's still growing.  
  
The night may have splashed itself over his features, but it's easy to make out the distinct look of surprise on his face.  
  
I take another breath. Alright, let's go again. I would like it if--  
  
I...I heard that. I just... he frowns slightly, are you sure that's what you want? Where we're at right now is perfectly fine, so don't feel as if you have to--  
  
It's fine, my two words cut through the jumble he was trying to get out. I don't like interrupting, but I had a pretty good guess of where he was going, I just wanted to let you know that I'm ready, so, I squeeze his hand once, twice and smile, you don't have to worry about me.  
  
He smiles at this, shaking his head. I never minded. I like focusing on someone who isn't me for once, slowly, he begins to grin, Reis, how am I supposed to say yes' without sounding too eager or something?  
  
I can't help it. I begin to laugh, even as my nervousness expands and beings to tumble around and around in my stomach.  
  
God, it feels good.  
  
-----  
  
Reis?  
  
Hm?  
  
Are you nervous?  
  
...Yes.  
  
...Oh. Well, don't worry, you're not the only one.  
  
Really?  
  
Yeah. You know...if at any time you want to stop, I won't mind.  
  
...No, it's fine. We...we made a choice, so let's stay with it. Whatever happens, let's stay with the choices we make.

-End to chapter 24-

Whew...this was hard to work on, what with studying for midterms and miscellaneous things. I really like the style of this chapter, and I hope everyone liked it as well.  
  
This was interesting to write, if only for Reis' decision. Looking back, she's really changed, even if she still has that habit of brooding for days-weeks-months on anything. What really made this chapter fun to write was that I could finally culminate the ongoing perspective of well, I'm really interested in experiencing sex, but...' If nothing else, we can thank Peppermint for her very effective presence on the extremely impressionable Reis. We would also thank Chiroseau too, but...  
  
Reviewers!  
  
It's nice to see you again, Jaded Soul! Are the .hack games really that good? I was interested in them, but I don't want to buy four games if they're really just direct continuations of the same game...sequels are one thing, but the other sounds like a rip-off. Oh, Berserk, I think I watched the first episode of that.  
Yay...finally, I've escaped without a grammatical error! Well, the series ends when it wants to end. I, for one, am really sad about it. I hope you like this chapter!  
  
Luna...I'm so not going to respond to half that review. Well, to be honest, Beowulf has a point too. I mean, between his childhood, the war, and his job as a Temple Knight, we should just be happy that he doesn't angst for long periods of time. Even with how important Reis is to him, sometimes a person just needs to be alone.  
Congrats on the interview! Well, half the semester has already gone by, so just hang in there!  
Ah, the Wiegraf issue again. Um, as admirable a person Wiegraf was before Miluda encountered Ramza's happy little band, he was just human. Lucavi or not, he was already consumed with hatred and grief before he ever went to the Church for help--well, it's why he went to them in the first place. At least, that's how I see it. Please, let's talk about another character...  
Otakon? My East Coast friends have been asking the same thing, but I'm a penniless college student. I'm not even going to AX this year! But even if I had the money, I'm not interested in anime or manga anymore. I wish you all the success on your cosplaying, though!  
  
Earth Rincar...um, before I get into your review, were you ever known as (so-and-so) Ninja'? Because I distinctly remember reviewing a Sol/Millia lemon by someone who also wrote a Grandia II fanfic, and I wanted to apologize for the extremely critical way I went about it. Although I stand by my opinion on it, the way I went about it was very harsh and not usually how I try to review. But, um, if you didn't write anything like that, then I've wasted my time.  
Anyway...four days? Heh, I'm surprised you didn't quit after the first day! Thank you very much for your compliments, but I must ask: why do you like the Beowulf/Reis pairing so much? I mean...they had three cutscenes. I'm always surprised when people say that, but comparing them to the other FF canon couples...I can't blame you. --  
Ah, Holy Dragon Reis...well, I suppose you'll just have to wait and see, right?  
  
Hey, The Burning Misery, sup? Well, I usually update every week at 11:45 (Pacific) on Tuesday nights. Yes, that exact. I'm really happy to hear that you can connect with the story. Your example is funny though, simply because every time I thought about the chapter before I wrote it out, Beowulf and Reis celebrated his birthday. Then again, I'm guilty of not actually planning out very much of this story to begin with.  
Can't write, huh? It's okay, Reis sympathizes with you.  
Ooh, a magazine. Which one? I could use some reading material.  
  
Thank you very much for reading! If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to tell me! If it's a question, chances are it's a plot point waiting to get resolved in the next few chapters...  
  
Chapter 25: Sunrise (_Polychromatic Seeds_): Reis, would you...will you marry me?


	28. 25: Sunrise

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 25: Sunrise (_Polychromatic Seeds_)  
  
It's strange how all this began.  
  
--_I'm guessing this is yours, miss?_--  
  
He was just a man with typical blond hair and atypical brandy eyes, charming and confident and surprisingly easygoing for the leader of the Lionel Holy Knights. With those characteristics shining brightly on that April day, I can't help but think now that I was bound to be a little in awe of him.  
  
I think I always will be.  
  
Exiting from the bathhouse, I can feel my skin pucker up and tighten from the cold November air. Not like it should be any different from yesterday's October air...but it does, somehow. Odd...is it the atmosphere, or is it me? I tighten my robe around my body before making my way back to my room. It's so quiet out here right now, with the night sky slowly being tugged away and replaced with a dreary grayness. The clock on the top of the church has its hands pointing to five after six, but I actually feel really awake. I'm sure that'll change once I go to work.  
  
With each step I take I feel a little twinge, a slight soreness between my legs, but I had been expecting that beforehand anyway. It's kind of good in a way, like an almost pleasant reminder. Even my own memory can't fully grasp the exact feelings of last night, other than that I was nervous. Extremely nervous, a fair amount anxious and a bit excited.  
  
Well, maybe next time I'll actually enjoy it.  
  
Reaching my door, I quietly open it and slip inside, letting the door close with a soft clicking sound. It doesn't seem to affect Beowulf at all, since his eyes are still closed, but...is he really sleeping? If I immerse myself into listening, his heartbeat sounds the same as when he's wide awake. Hm, oh well. I shrug off my robe and toss it onto my valise. Should I do the same for my nightgown...ah, no. Our clothes are scattered on the floor, though they're vaguely grouped; mine are close to my valise and his...well, they're on the right side of the room. I pick up his clothing and form a pile of them at the foot of the bed. After a glance at Beowulf's sleeping form--I guess he really is sleeping--I kick my clothes closer to my valise. Ah, much better.  
  
I take another look at the bed, trying to figure out how to get back in without waking him up. If the shape of his body under the blanket is any indication, he's kind of on his side and, thankfully, not taking up most of the bed. His right arm is sprawled over the pillow, his left arm bent against his chest, and he's facing the door. Hm...well, it's worth a try. As gently as possible, I lift the blanket up and slip inside, trying to make sure that my weight doesn't press into the mattress too much--though, it's not as if it was anywhere near soft enough to ripple or anything. Laying my head on his arm, I manage to wiggle my body up to his, our faces about a hand's length away. I want to put my arm around him, but I think he's a relatively light sleeper and I don't want to disturb him.  
  
...He looks really adorable when he's asleep. Just the way the long strands of his hair have fallen over his face, his lips slightly parted and the soft sounds of steady breathing make for a very peaceful-looking Beowulf. Looking at him like this, I can't help but feel unnaturally happy. I know I have a ridiculously wide smile on my face, I just know it. I can't help it...well, I don't mind it right now.  
  
It's so strange...or maybe it isn't, I don't know. The sex itself...well, with all those feelings colliding into each other deep in my stomach, it was an effort not to instinctively twitch at his touch. I don't know why I was acting like that. I've always felt more or less comfortable around him. I guess...maybe it was just the knowledge of what was going to happen. Even though Peppermint informed me as to the process...it's hard to translate that into an actual confidence about the matter at hand.  
  
I suppose knowledge is no substitute for experience.  
  
It's hard not to think that I disappointed him with my inexperience. Even though afterward he said he liked it, still...well, there's always next time. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, though. Even if he said he was nervous, he certainly didn't act like it. Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but he seems fairly experienced.  
  
Ah...it's best not to think about that. Not right now, not like this. It's not something I care to know about.  
  
Sighing a bit, Beowulf shifts a bit, more onto his side. I don't move. After a bit more shifting he relaxes and seems to be peacefully sleeping again. I exhale slowly. What time does he usually wake up? He never told me what time his shift was for today...oh, I hope it isn't the seven in the morning one. He'll have to leave soon anyway, since I don't know when the town wakes up' it wouldn't be good for some stray townsperson to witness him leaving my room...  
  
I wish we could just sleep in and hold each other. That would be nice. I could never get tired of pressing myself against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and nothing else...hugging is such a non-demanding action, especially compared to other things.  
  
Reaching out with my right hand, I softly touch his cheek, my fingers threading through the loose strands of his hair. It isn't soft, but it is nice. I remember him saying that he used to keep it loose and hanging in his eyes when he was younger. Especially like this, he doesn't look like his age, or even anything approaching twenty-eight--  
  
He groans suddenly, lines appearing on his forehead as he frowns. I pull my hand away quickly, watching curiously as he yawns--covering his mouth midway into it--then scratches the back of his head and sighs before settling down. I...I guess I didn't wake him? The frown appears again. ...Too quiet... he mutters coherently before his eyes start to open very slowly, blinking every other second or so. At the halfway mark, his eyes focus on something past my shoulder before quickly noticing me, which is incidentally when his eyes open all the way. He doesn't do anything, just blankly stares at me.  
  
I can relate. It's not every day I have people in my bed. I almost reacted very badly...but I don't think I'll be telling him that. Good morning, I smile, and something seems to click inside since he smiles back.  
  
Good morning, he reaches out with the arm not under my head and holds me against him, placing a kiss on my forehead while I do the same on his collarbone, did you sleep well?  
  
thanks to you...though, I usually sleep well, did you?  
  
He pulls away from me, still smiling. Better than usual, I wait for an explanation on usual', could you move your head, love? I can't feel my arm, I do so, patiently waiting as he gingerly massages his arm, do you know what time it is?  
  
...I guess I won't be getting an explanation. Past six, I don't know how long I've been staring at him, so it's the best I can do.  
  
Oh, I guess I should leave at seven, oh... you weren't here earlier, I don't think.  
  
I shake my head. I went to the bath to clean up a bit, I had really wanted to do that after we had finished, but he was holding me and murmuring nonsensical things... more than usual, anyway. I couldn't help but fall asleep in that completely comfortable situation.  
  
He nods at this, reaching out with his left hand to brush some strands of hair away from my face. Soon that hand is pulling me to him, settling on the back of my head as I press up against him and wrap my right arm around his waist. In what can only be considered as a fast recovery, his right arm goes right back under my head when I lift it off the pillow to move my hair back so it won't get caught under my neck and shoulder.  
  
Hm...this is nice, especially where his bare skin touches mine...  
  
There's an urge coursing through me to remove my nightgown and then snuggle up against him, just basking in the heat of his skin on mine, but I suppose my bare arms and legs will have to do for now. It's enough to remember being enveloped in the haziness afterward and relishing the feeling of skin pressed against skin, the sweat and heavy breathing only making it all the more real, all the more strange and odd and...nice.  
  
It's so strange how these movements, these experiences with him are so...unexplainable. They're confusing, but I like them.  
  
I hear him sigh. I'm still a little surprised by all this.  
  
So am I. Is that a bad thing? I want to lift my head up from his chest and look into his eyes for the answer, but...I'm too comfortable to move.  
  
No, not at all, he chuckles a bit, the sound a low rumble in his chest, but I know you like to think about things for awhile before doing them. I guess I'm surprised that you were thinking about...well, this.  
  
I make a small sound at this. It's supposed to convey my agreement and nonchalance about my decision--well, now that it's over, anyway--but it sounds like it needs practice. I guess I never really was the nonchalant sort. I didn't want to make a mistake this time, I didn't want to hurt you...hurt us again.  
  
If I can help it, anyway.  
  
'A mistake'... he runs a hand through my hair in slow, steady strokes and something like nostalgia settles in my mind, oh, I see. So, what made you decide?  
  
My fingers lightly run down a portion of his spine, enjoying the feel of the bumps of each ridge under my fingertips. I was inspired to be more decisive, so I decided to let you know, pulling my head back, I look up into his eyes, which've regained their color on this blustery morning, that's all I could've done...I was prepared to take any answer.  
  
Well, that's easy to say now, anyway.  
  
He kisses the tip of my nose, then pulls his body back slightly to reach for my lips. 'No' wasn't even an option. Like I said, it just surprised me, he closes up the small space between us once more, making me feel warm and comfortable again, decisive, huh...  
  
That's what Sir Chiroseau told me, I rearrange my body so that I can continually look at him eye-to-eye, 'even if you make a choice that no one can agree with, if you have a reason to make that choice, then the only judgment that holds any weight at all is God's,' a small smile forms on my face as one of his eyebrows arches at this, I never really thought of that before, but I like the reasoning, that life is too short to really worry...  
  
It really is.  
  
One of the corners of his lips rises. He never tells me anything like that. It's always are you sure that's the right thing to do, Kadmus?' or well, if you really think that's the best way, then I won't stop you,' he sighs loudly, though his eyes have a liveliness to them, I guess he just trusts your judgment more than _mine_... suddenly I'm the recipient of a strange look, wait, you didn't tell him that this is what you were planning...?  
  
I make sure to toss back that strange look in full force. Why would I do that?  
  
He visibly relaxes. Oh, just...just wondering is all.  
  
...? ah, best to move on, maybe it isn't such a good thing to do all the time, but I'd like to have those words in mind more often, reaching up with my rather scrunched left arm, I touch his face just below his lips, it seems to lead to good things.  
  
It certainly does, he smiles, his voice a bit huskier than usual, you know, I've never really thought about doing that before. At least, not the making my own decisions no matter what' part. I've always just taken what seemed to be the best option at the time, the smile drops from his face as a more serious expression takes over, it really makes me think.  
  
I look at him, instantly curious at this odd mood shift. About what?  
  
That maybe I should be more active in living my life as well. Even if I know I can make a decision later, at the right time' ...well, what is the right time'? He laughs a little at this, looking even younger than usual with that sheepish look on his face. His eyes, so vivid in this gray room, search my face. You know what I mean?  
  
I...I think so, I say encouragingly, first the fingertips, then the entire palm of my left hand encountering tiny prickles as I touch his face. I like what he's saying...what is the right time to do anything? The perfect moment...I think we make our own moments whether they're the right time or not. After all, if we keep waiting and waiting for a sign to trip us up, for God to let us know when to do something...eventually we'll run out of time.  
  
It's a waste, isn't it?  
  
But even saying that...it's hard to just do it, he looks at me curiously, is that how you felt, Reis?  
  
I lower my eyes, feeling embarrassed at the question.   
  
I like the sound of Beowulf's laughter, even during a moment like this. He's usually cheerful and...it makes me feel lighter somehow. Yet you still went ahead. I've always liked that about you, thank you... I guess I can only hope to get a similar answer like the one I gave you.  
  
...Ah, what?  
  
Seize the day, right? He mumbles, more to himself I think, as he lets go of me and reaches for both my hands. I watch him do this, but...why is he doing this? Once he has my hands grasped in his, holding them between our bodies, he takes a deep breath before looking me straight in the eye. Reis, would you... he sighs and shakes his head, nervously smiling at me, will you marry me?  
  
...  
  
--_You'll...you'll never be able to bear a child_--  
  
This...this isn't...  
  
He's looking at me with those beautiful eyes, full of hope and nervousness and I want to reach out and hug him and tell him yes, yes I would love to be his wife, I would love to spend the rest of my life with him, I've spent more than half my life learning how to be a very good wife...  
  
But I can't be.  
  
I can't even fulfill the main requirement of marriage.  
  
I can't...just a little longer...   
  
I don't want...  
  
That's...I wasn't expecting that, but...well, alright, he pauses, looking a fair amount confused, but he still smiles at me anyway, well, I've been thinking about this for awhile, to be honest. I've never been this happy before, I feel his hands squeeze mine and I can't help but smile just a little, ...I know you usually think I say some pretty weird things, but I...I didn't think I'd be doing this right now, so I don't know what to say, although it's inappropriate, I giggle at this. His smile grows wider, so, will you marry me? I don't know how I'll be at being a husband and a father and the like, but I would love to raise a family with you.  
  
...Oh.  
  
Reluctantly I remove my hands from his, sitting up and looking away from him. I don't want to see it when he realizes that courting me for marriage was a mistake... I'm sorry, Beowulf, but I can't give you that.  
  
His voice is hushed.  
  
I don't want to say it. I can't...I can't give you a family.  
  
He touches my blanketed thigh, then my arm as his weight shifts on the bed. Reis, what are you talking about?  
  
Every word that passes through my lips seems to add a deep, rending gash into me...into that strange entity known as us'. Just a little deeper, just a little more. Might as well go in for the kill. After all, I've already tried to kill off my essential self once already. But I won't look.  
  
I won't.  
  
I can't bear a child, my voice is low, very matter-of-fact.  
  
What a lie.  
  
Suddenly his touch is gone, and I feel alone again. Completely, utterly alone.  
  
It's been awhile.  
  
How...how do you know this? His voice sound empty, somehow. Maybe it's just me.  
  
I was told by one of the white mages, I reply calmly, because I don't have cycles' like human women do.  
  
Mama...was it really neccessary?  
  
There's his touch again, his hand on my shoulder. Very tentative, very hesitant, very unlike him. 'Human women'?  
  
Slowly, I nod.  
  
His grip tightens. What's that supposed to mean? You look just as human as anybody else.  
  
That sort of comment... So, as long as I look human then everything should be perfectly fine with me? As long as I'm not sporting scales or a tail then I should obviously be a human inside and out? I look down, over at my valise next to the bed. I can see the heirloom stone that Beowulf gave me what feels like a lifetime ago, poking up from some scattered clothes. Was it that easy to forget? I whisper.  
  
I want to forget again.  
  
I never forgot, his tone is harsh now, what is this all of a sudden? You're more human than the nobles I've met. You have more humanity in you than I've ever witnessed in most people. Why are you acting like the only thing you've ever been is a dragon?  
  
...I don't know. I'm sorry.  
  
Don't worry about it, just...would you at least look at me? Hesitantly I do so, glancing at Beowulf's sitting form before looking down at my lap. There, that's better, his hands reach out towards my face and cup it, gently lifting my head up until I'm staring into his eyes. I don't move, not even when he gives me a comforting smile, we've gotten through a lot of things before, love, all we have to do is think about our options, I guess that sounds reasonable... now, is there a way to fix this?  
  
Fix'?  
  
Oh, God...if Beowulf, of all people, is saying that, then...am I that far gone?  
  
The choice I never made...Mama, why...?  
  
There is a thick, heavy lump in my throat and I grit my teeth, trying to swallow and maybe lessen it somewhat. Because of Beowulf's hands, all I can see is his cruelly kind face, friendly and expectant. I close my eyes, feeling ill at the attentive spark in his eyes, am I that ruined...?  
  
I was right, even he...no, it's not him. It's me, it's Mama's choice that makes me completely unsuitable for a normal life.  
  
It was just my fault that I tried to reach for one anyway.  
  
When I open my eyes, I catch his odd expression for a moment before his eyes widen. That's not what I meant. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like there was something wrong with who you are, it's just... he shrugs, looking completely lost, maybe there's a way we could turn you back into a full human.  
  
It sounds like a good idea in practice, but...my hearing, everything inside my body...are those things anywhere approaching human now? I'm only alive because I was changed, so doesn't that mean that it's irreversible, more or less?  
  
...That is a good point, he admits after a period of silence. He sounds like he's given up. I try to look down, easily pulling away from his hands to do so.  
  
So, this is what it all leads to.  
  
We sit in uncomfortable silence. My eyes are transfixed on my lap. I don't know what Beowulf's attention is on, or what he's thinking, or anything. I don't know anything anymore, other than that I've done something horribly wrong somewhere and now we're both suffering for it.  
  
Maybe I should've never continued our relationship after I found out. Maybe I should've told him on Bariaus Hill that day.  
  
Maybe, maybe, maybe.  
  
Just a little longer.'  
  
This isn't nearly long enough.  
  
Selfish, foolish...just so I wouldn't be alone, I would deprive him of his choices. My most important flaw, and yet...all I could do was hide this away and selfishly continue on as if nothing was wrong. It's probably best I decline Verden's job offer and go back to Murond...  
  
It won't bring back the wasted time for him, but I should still apologize. I'm sorry, Beowulf.  
  
Sorry for what? He sounds so mellow, so unconcerned...why?  
  
I've made you waste your time on me, I close my eyes, painfully gnawing my lower lip. I hate this, you should've been looking for a suitable wife, but I was selfish and I...I just wanted you to stay around a bit longer. I'm sorry.  
  
Beowulf's weight shifts again, and I can feel him close to me. You're not even thinking of a solution, he chides. Why would I...? and I think you're perfectly suitable.  
  
With a heavy sigh, I look up at him and his earnest expression. What are you saying? It was just supposed to be a simple question, but it sounds more like a demand.  
  
He wouldn't...no, I shouldn't be hopeful.  
  
I'm saying I still want to marry you, he smiles tentatively, I can hear what you're saying perfectly, and I am disappointed, but there are other reasons that supercede that.  
  
I'm confused. I don't know how they think in the towns and such, but I've only heard of marriage being mainly for having children. It's the same with nobles, for that matter. Certainly there are other factors, but...I can't see a point in being a wife if I'm not fulfilling all my duties. Even if I'm swathed in happiness, completely in love...I wouldn't marry for those feelings alone. I would certainly be motivated to, but there needs to be common sense in a decision as important as that.  
  
After all, feelings can change.  
  
But I owe it to him to listen. I'd like to hear them, if you don't mind.  
  
First of all, I love you, I frown at this. We're going to be at odds the whole way with our different ways of thinking. He holds up his hands in a placating manner, I know, I know. It's not a good idea to marry only for love. I know that. But... exhaling heavily, his expression takes on something like sadness, well, Sis is married. She only married because our family line was analogous to her husband's, so their resulting children would be secure in their titles.  
  
...What? Why is that important?  
  
He sighs. It's too uneven to have something like, say...a duchess marry a viscount, because what titles do your children claim? I...never thought of something like that. What an odd system... Anyway, Sis barely knew her husband before they were married, and now she's always unhappy, even if she's a mother of three, he looks at me and shrugs, if I had been the oldest, there's no way I would've ended up here. I would be in Lesalia right now, in the same situation she's in. So, even if it's not a good idea to marry for love, I'd still like to have that as one of my main reasons.  
  
I...see. Yes, I think I can understand. That's how marriages go in the hunter community. The husband and wife have to be emotionally close...they don't have to love each other, but they do have to trust each other, I guess when he puts it in that way...maybe we really do understand each other.  
  
Hm.  
  
But, it's not quite that easy to toss caution to the wind and instantly agree to marrying him. I mean, I don't want him to regret it two, five years later.  
  
I don't want him to regret anything that has to do with me.  
  
Do you want to hear my second reason? I nod, feeling strange over this. Although I'm still not convinced, Beowulf is the type of person who is deceptively tenacious. I have a feeling he could toss out reasons all day if he really wanted to. He wouldn't need to, but I'm sure he could. And if those didn't work, he'd kiss me on the forehead and tell me to think about it a little more before making a decision. Well, it has to do with the vows of marriage.  
  
Vows of marriage'? I've never heard of anything like that. What's that?  
  
He looks puzzled. You don't know about the vows?  
  
I'm sorry, but no, I mumble, feeling a bit foolish.  
  
Well, during the ceremony, the bride and groom recite vows to each other, promising to keep them, he raises an eyebrow when he catches me staring at him oddly, reaffirming their roles in the marriage, basically.  
  
They have to be told what to do? That's...that's kind of sad.  
  
He shakes his head. It's not that exactly, it's more of verbally promising that they'll keep their vows before both God and the witnesses.  
  
There are...witnesses? Why...oh, it's not important. So, what are these vows?  
  
To cherish your spouse, to always stand by her in times of trouble, and to be completely devoted to her, his eyes seem to darken as he gazes at me, I couldn't very well propose to you, fully knowing what I'll be promising to do, only to leave at the first sign of trouble, right?  
  
I nod hesitantly. If those are the vows, then you should follow them as soon as you decide to propose, but... those seemed to be a bit...different from the typical Glabados fare. Well, if that's what he says they say... all the same, I'm in a bit more than trouble', I'm just...  
  
_worthless_  
  
...not really worth the effort.  
  
I said I'm always honest, and if you really weren't worth the effort I wouldn't be trying right now, he says cheerfully, so, the third reason, right? It's not so much a reason as it is an example of a solution I just thought up.  
  
A solution? There really is one that doesn't require fixing' me or something equally intimidating? What is it? I ask in a rush of words, afraid to be too hopeful.  
  
He clears his throat, brushing back the loose strands of hair falling into his eyes. I remember hearing about this when I was still involved in the war. There was a respected commander in the Nanten who had died before the Ordalians invaded Zeltennia. He was a friend of Sir Orlandu, and after he had died, Sir Orlandu took care of his son, eventually adopting the boy, he looks at me with hope brightening his eyes, there are probably a lot of orphans out there, don't you think?  
  
...I guess...that would work.  
  
Of course it would work. It's such an easy solution. Here I am, worrying and fretting over not being able to bear a child when there are so many children without parents.  
  
--_It wasn't safe in Fovoham, but before my family could leave, the settlement got destroyed in a battle between our troops and the Ordalians. All that was left were a couple other kids and myself_--  
  
It's just too safe in Lionel to worry about the war.  
  
You're really okay with this? I can't help but ask, but I just want to make sure. I won't selfishly hold him back any longer. He doesn't need to go through all this... I mean, I appreciate all of your help and I'm very thankful that you'd still want me as your wife, but... glancing at him, his face has gone from hopeful' to impassive', you really don't have to go this far for me. I would understand it more if you had wanted to find a more capable wife and actually be able to father your own children.  
  
This is true. I understand that he loves me. I love him too, and our time together has been, for the most part, wonderful. But there are more important things than clinging to each other and futilely promising that everything will be okay as long as we're together.  
  
I'm selfish, but I have to be realistic too.  
  
Of course I want to stay with him. More than anything, I would love to raise a family and grow old with him. However, I also understand that he could have a life where he doesn't have to sacrifice as much to have an equally fulfilling life.  
  
Wouldn't he like to hold his child and see luminous brandy eyes shining back at him?  
  
He's silent. When I look at him, he has a faraway look in his eyes just before he closes them. I don't think... he starts slowly, then sighs, I know that just because someone is capable of having a child doesn't mean that they're a mother or father, it just makes them a person with a child.  
  
Yes, he would know, wouldn't he? That's true. But, you're still disappointed anyway, aren't you?  
  
Yeah, a bit, he smiles at me, but I'll get over it. You can't change the past, so why worry about it?  
  
It sounds good in theory, but it doesn't work quite as well in practice, I respond absently. I guess I'll have to work on that as well, thank you, Beowulf.  
  
It's no problem-- the church bells take this time to cut him off. He glances at me regretfully while the bells proceed to ring the same way seven times before stopping, I guess I'd better go.  
  
Oh, just when everything seemed to be getting better... getting off the bed, I wait for him to move before primly sitting at its edge and watching him get dressed. I find the male body to be interesting...well, I find Beowulf's body to be interesting. His is nice and comfortable to hold and be held up against...although, it also seems a bit uncomfortable...hm.  
  
He glances at me while putting on his scarf. Reis, if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to start blushing, he grins, which turns into outright laughter when I look away, sorry, I couldn't help it.  
  
Inwardly, I smile. It feels almost as if everything were back to normal with us. I couldn't help it, you do have a very nice body.  
  
You're taking my lines, aren't you? He extends a hand towards me, which I take without hesitation, and pulls me up to him, holding me around the waist. Do I really have to go to work? I wanted to stay here and...talk with you some more.  
  
Oh, that wasn't suspicious. Smiling up at him, I nod. It's only fair. I have work in a couple hours myself, placing my hands on his upper arms, my smile turns into a more nervous breed, but I'd like it if you came over tonight...well, if you want to.  
  
He rolls his eyes at this. Of course I want to, leaning in for a quick, closed-lip kiss, his expression after he pulls back seems like a twin to my own just now, ah, about the proposal...  
  
I look down at the gold buttons of his jacket. This is hard to say, but... Could you give me a little more time to think about it, please?  
  
I'm pretty sure I know what my answer will be now, but still...I just need a little more time to thoroughly think about it.  
  
Take all the time you need, I won't rush you, the smile he gives me is encouraging, just before he leans over and kisses me on the forehead, I'll be by at around seven-thirty to eight, he gazes into my eyes, looking as if he was on the verge of saying something else, but then he lets go of me and walks to my door. He pauses then, hand touching the knob, then looks back at me, I'm a little worried. Can you tell me if there's someone around this corridor?  
  
Probably...I walk up to him, staring straight at the door as I expand' my hearing. It's weird, but it's also easy to do. Shaking my head, I step back. Have fun at work, I smile, and he easily smiles back.  
  
You too, love, with that, he opens the door and leaves, neatly closing the door behind him.  
  
Hmm. Walking up to the door, I lean against it and sigh.  
  
When did he get to be so predictable? I knew exactly what he was going to do, and yet I know there's no way I could've stopped him. Truthfully, I wouldn't have wanted to. Just the touch of those steady, reasonable-sounding words is enough to make me think that maybe, just maybe...  
  
Maybe we really can marry just for the sake of wanting to be with each other.  
  
It's really foolish, it goes against everything I've ever learned, yet...it's such an attractive way of thinking. This isn't the normal way of thinking, the normal way of living. It's really more of a selfish desire that motivates me into accepting this...this strange idea.  
  
If he wants to, if he's really certain that he won't regret it in the future, then...I'll easily accept.  
  
Beowulf...you're really strange, you know that? Wielding your kindness indiscriminately like that...one of these days, you're going to kill me with love.  
  
I'll be really disappointed if you don't.  
  
-----  
  
--tok...tok...tok--  
  
It's past seven. Lying on my blankets in my nightgown, blankly staring at my shadowed ceiling, I push' my hearing up, up, all the way up past the roof of the church and alongside the clock tower, all the way into the clock itself. I don't know what clocks are made out of, but I'm hearing turning creaks and rhythmic clicks. It must be from Goug. I wonder if other churches have such advancements?  
  
Focusing, trying to get used to the sounds of the clock as the arms painfully turn, maybe someday I'll be able to tell what time it is just by the sounds. After using my hearing to hunt, it seems like such a waste to go back to wincing every time the hour struck. Maybe if I can get this down, I can try directing this focus into other things...though I don't think Beowulf will teach me black magic. Maybe he can teach me that float spell?  
  
--knoknok--  
  
Why is he knocking? Hurriedly I roll off the bed and take several strides to the door before flinging it open and motioning him inside and closing it after he does so. Why did you do that?  
  
Good evening to you too, he says dryly, do you mean knocking? Why wouldn't I do that?  
  
I sigh before reaching for one of his hands and pulling him to my bed, forcing him to sit down a little less gently than I would normally. It's not a good idea. Since I expect you to be coming over a lot, it's not necessary. Plus, it leaves you out there longer, and you're wearing your uniform... reaching out, I start tugging off his scarf, it really just makes you so much more conspicuous...  
  
I know he's looking at me strangely, even in the darkness. How often will I be coming over?  
  
Well, as often as you want to risk it, really, my voice is very matter-of-fact, even as I tilt my head and give him a side glance, though, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to make your fiancé lonely, would you...?  
  
I believe him. Even if his words sound too good to be true, I trust him.  
  
I can't help it.  
  
So, I won't.  
  
...Reis, really...? He's silent for a moment before reaching out for me, his hands grasping my forearms as he leans in. I mean, of course not. That wouldn't do at all, he murmurs as his lips touch mine. I accept the kiss eagerly, feeling overwhelmed by the situation, my feelings, the fact that someday soon I'll be known as Reis Kadmus'.  
  
That has a nice sound to it, doesn't it?  
  
After a bit of tugging, we end up on lying on my bed, holding each other tightly. I still don't like the feel of those buttons on his jacket; pressing against either my back or my chest, they're still uncomfortable. You seemed as if you were going to decline, he whispers, tugging lightly at the ends of my hair, what made you change your mind?  
  
I...I didn't really change my mind, shifting slightly, I smile when his bare feet start nudging against mine. It makes me feel like a little kid again... but, are you sure you won't regret it?  
  
Of course I won't regret it, his words caress my hair as he manages to entangle our legs even moreso than they already were, I don't change my mind that easily.  
  
I hope not.  
  
Even though I feel as if I did the right thing--the best thing--by accepting his proposal, I'm still a little worried. I'm so happy, yet I'm also anxious. Maybe I'll always feel a little bit like this, like I'm getting something too good to be true. Even if he says he's fine with me, a part of me still refuses to believe it. That's probably never going to go away, either. I do trust him, but...I can't help it.  
  
No matter what he says, I can't completely shake the thought that I am somewhat a failure.  
  
--_You can't change the past, so why worry about it?_--  
  
I suppose. I am what I am, and nothing is ever going to change that. The one choice I never got to make...ah, it's not worth thinking about anymore. I should be more appreciative of it, really. At least I've made it this far.  
  
Alright, Mama, I forgive you.

-End of chapter 25-

First of all, my apologies for the lateness. You'll note that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual as well. Let me try to explain this as concisely as possible:  
  
There was going to be a sex scene in the chapter, but once I started working on it, I quickly realized there was no point in having it at all. So, I rewrote the beginning, but since I didn't have any alternate things to put down, this chapter is short. C'est la vie.  
  
-The game has bi-counts'. I've never heard of that in real life, but I have heard of viscounts'. Would it be presumptuous to assume the translators messed up here as well?  
  
Reviewers!  
  
It's nice to see you again so soon, Mavina! Ehehe...thank you very much! You know, if it hadn't been for you steadfastly reading/reviewing the early chapters, I wonder if I would've gotten this far...well, I certainly hope you like this chapter!  
  
Hey there, The Burning Misery! My crude humor doesn't need any work, and I haven't read a game magazine since I was...young. frets I'm happy to hear that you've finished something, but I've--this is hard to admit--never played FFVII. Every time someone tells me, But [tenshi], it's the best FF game and everybody's played it so you have to too! I automatically put that game off my to-buy' list for another year. So far I'm at six. But dark, damning' atmospheres...hm, I can't really help you, but why don't you try reading dark, damning stories for a start?  
I'm happy you really liked the chapter. There are so many things in the game that could've been expanded upon...  
Hm-hm...define soon'. The main story will be done before summer, sure, but...oh well. And I read your where you'll be moving to, you could conceivably hit me with that dictionary ;  
  
Nice to see you again, Earth Rincar. Well, I was hoping as much, but I only felt it was honorable to at least mention it. Anyway, those reasons are pretty much the same as mine when it comes to why they're interesting, especially the classic fairy-tale' part. Well, except that the heroine tends to turn into something dainty and small and not into a lumbering monster of death, but I think that makes it more interesting. And I would disagree with the second to Orlandu' thing, but then again I use Reis a lot more.  
As for the chapter...thank you very much!  
  
Hi, Toastyann! Theology...the closest I've ever gotten to that was Asian Religions, and that was a philosophy class. So, in other words, no. Though, what's in the chapter _is_ pretty basic, isn't it? Thank you...wow, your review is pretty short. I do like your longer reviews better, but I'm just happy to see you. I hope you enjoyed your break, even with all the chores.  
  
Ello, Jaded Soul! I'm really happy you enjoyed the chapter! Hm, well, if you say so, I'll at least try to find the first one, though my backlog of games is ridiculous right now. Well, actually, I absolutely enjoyed the first episode of Berserk a whole lot more than most of the anime I saw at last year's AX, but because I don't have the money to pursue both anime and video games, I decided to cut off most series unless they're on TV. Well, it wouldn't hurt to buy the first manga volume...  
  
Hey, Luna! Ah, I'm surprised...you're the only person who pointed out the issue at hand' in the chapter. Hm, makes me wonder.  
I miss Peppermint too. She was fun to write and she didn't angst like Reis automatically does. (Though, that's really my fault, isn't it? Too bad I thrive on angst, as you well know.)  
I was right, you're pretty perceptive. I'd like to deny that I was condensing the chapter, but this chapter proves that, yes, chapter 24 takes place over the course of a month. But first and foremost, I really liked the stylistic device. Did the dialogue-only parts take away from the chapter? I guess I wouldn't know, since I can see' them, but I didn't consider how most readers would feel about it.  
Don't worry about the rambling, I just didn't know how to respond to it. I hope you had a nice break, I spent mine worrying about this chapter, trying to find the Disney concert hall for next month's FF concert, and finishing FFX.  
Well, you were pretty much guaranteed to hit the preview quote right...you should be happy I didn't make it actually be a dream sequence or something!  
  
Wow, that's a lot! Please, if you have any questions or comments, feel free to send a review or an email, depending on the situation. Thank you very much for reading!  
  
Chapter 26: Eros and Psyche (_A night-colored love_): Reis, I hope you'll forgive me.


	29. 26: Eros and Psyche

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.  
  
(Eh...maybe a PG-15 for sexuality. Just to be on the safe side.)

Chapter 26: Eros and Psyche (_A night-colored love_)  
  
Hello, love.  
  
Hmm...? I move around, trying to get some sense of coordination back into my limbs, but right now I don't want to open my eyes. After some sluggish thrashing around--with an injury to the heel of my left foot when it collides with the footboard being very helpful in waking me up--I face in the direction where I think I heard Beowulf. I still refuse to open my eyes. If this is a dream, I'm going to be very annoyed with myself.   
  
Rough, gentle fingertips touch my face. Good guess, he sounds cheerful. Any other time this simple fact would make me happy. It's irritating right now, sorry for coming over at such a late hour.  
  
What time is it? I mumble, putting significant emphasis on time'.  
  
It's a little after one, his fingers are stroking my hairline now, sorry, I had the seven to one shift tonight.  
  
One? It's one in the morning, this is a fascinating point that my mind just won't let go of.  
  
suddenly his hand is gone. I sigh. I liked that... sorry about this. My next shift is this afternoon, so I'll see you tonight...well, the upcoming night. Alright? There is the touch of his lips on my cheek.  
  
...So, he's woken me up from my nice, needed sleep...and now he's just going to leave? Is that it? Beowulf, are you leaving already?  
  
He pauses. Well, that's what I was thinking of doing.  
  
Oh. Well, if he's going to come here, it'd be rude of me to just send him away. Besides, even though it's only been a week, I've gotten too used to feeling his warmth next to me.  
  
No, I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if he left.  
  
Wriggling my body, I manage to scrunch myself into a lump next to the wall. The blanket's shoved under me and it's uncomfortable... Please stay.  
  
If you say so, he cheerfully responds. It's a bit sickening. I mutter something to that effect, but it quickly gets as tangled up in the sheets as I currently am. Beowulf sits on the bed...is he actually humming something? Does he have any realization as what time it is?  
  
Why are you so wide...wide awake? Something needs to be done about this.  
  
There's a thud as the sole of one of his boots hits the floor a little too hard. Because it's cold outside. That sort of temperature forces people to stay awake, I think, a swishy sound makes itself known as, it seems, he's pulled his scarf off. The familiar sound of his taking his jacket off follows, his weight shifting on the bed, where's the blanket?  
  
It's a futile effort, but I try to tug the semi-soft cloth out from under me. It's bunched up underneath me, my voice sounds very near whiny. Ah, it's too early in the morning to care.  
  
He's chuckling. I fail to find the humor here, but then again my mind's mostly happily submerged in sleep, or something like it. Well then, I better rescue it, his hand burrows underneath my waist and he lifts me up, freeing up the thick folds of the blanket enough to tug it out. After gently placing me back into my proper position, he spreads out the blanket over the both of us and scoots up against me, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my nape.  
  
Ah...this is perfect...  
  
You really value your sleep, don't you?  
  
Nn... Of course I do, I mumble. Wait, is he trying to tell me something? what about you?  
  
His arm shifts so that he's not holding me as closely. Was that a bad question? I can't think... I don't...well, I like sleeping with you, but for the most part sleeping isn't all that great.  
  
Oh. Really? Why's that? I stifle a yawn and try potentially hard to fight away the cluttered cobwebs of sleep. If he wants me to listen, it's the least I can do for him...  
  
...Well, it'd be nice if he started talking.  
  
Finally he makes a small noise. Just some dreams, memories...that's all. Sorry, I'm keeping you from your sleep. Goodnight, Reis.  
  
Dreams, memories...bad ones?  
  
...Not much of an explanation. But...I'll respect it.  
  
Goodnight, Beowulf, I whisper, and his hold on me tightens again.  
  
-----  
  
--bomp--  
  
I hate your bed.  
  
With my head resting on his left shoulder, I glance up at him. Is something wrong? Of course, I have a pretty good idea about what he means, but it's only past eight and I'm not feeling very tired.  
  
This bed is so short. It must've been made for the average woman, I'll agree with that. But, in my view, most Ivalicians are on the short side, since you're tall, doesn't it bother you?  
  
A bit, I shrug, smiling inwardly as the fingers of his right hand drift along the forearm of my left arm, which is thrown over his chest haphazardly. Funny, thinking of the arm and body placements like this sound very convoluted, but it feels like one of the most natural things in the world, that's why I do this, slowly I run my bent left leg along the inside of his clothed right leg...why is he gripping me so hard? i-it's easier to sleep in this bed if you bend your legs, but that's easier to do when you're on your side.  
  
He mumbles something that doesn't even fully make its way past his lips. Is that so? He sounds distant.  
  
Well, yes, for me, anyway. Though, I can't imagine it being too comfortable to sleep with my knees point up at the ceiling.  
  
now he sounds vaguely disappointed...why? I can't wait until we get married. The first thing I'd like for our house would be a nice, large bed.  
  
It's certainly nice that one of us has their priorities straight. Smiling, I look up at his face. That sounds nice.  
  
Yeah, it does, his voice has taken on a more blissful quality...it's slightly unnerving, just think about it, love. Enough room to stretch out our legs and still not touch the footboard--  
  
--bomp--  
  
--I think my point has been proven, his legs collide into mine when he turns over, facing me, definitely the most important thing.  
  
I try my hardest to get our legs even more tangled up. I see, that's something I've come to appreciate about the shortness of this bed; it's practically a necessity to scrunch up our legs together, even if the rest of us somehow gets disentangled during the night.  
  
I appreciate the closeness.  
  
He adjusts the blanket over us, the top of it coming up to our chins. his tone of voice is very warm, and I can't help but press myself up against him just a little more, when should we get married?  
  
That's...a good question. We've been engaged for a week and a half and this is the first time it's been brought up. To be honest, being engaged to marry is just like being in the type of relationship we were in beforehand, except that there's now an element of...extra expectation? Maybe it was just my way of thinking, considering my problem, but I wasn't expecting anything.  
  
Now...now there's so much ahead of us.  
  
Thinking about it like this, it leads to some tangent questions. We can't just announce that we're going to get married if we weren't supposed to be in a relationship in the first place. So, the obvious solution would be to make the wedding happen at a plausible time for everyone watching. It sounds like we'd have to pretend to go right back to the getting to know each other' stage of things.  
  
It seems a bit ridiculous. Can we really go back to that stage, even if it's just for show?  
  
I don't really know, but what is the normal time structure between getting to know a person and marrying them? Before I answer...how long is the whole process supposed to be?  
  
He looks at me, interest sparking in his eyes. 'Process'? Do you mean planning out a wedding and such things?  
  
Oh, there's that too, isn't there... No, I mean from two people knowing each other until they decide to get married.  
  
At this, his eyes close. Well, that's hard to say. With nobles, that can be anywhere from a couple months to nearly a year. But that's usually planned out by others. With other people, I couldn't say.  
  
Hm, I see, how confusing. Depending on the process, we could be delaying our wedding for quite some time. I'm not in any rush to get married...well, not right now. It's hard to when we're enjoying at least a few benefits of the married life. Besides, I'm just grateful I even am getting married, Beowulf, what process were you following?  
  
he looks at me and smiles widely, the process of my heart?  
  
...Oh. I see.  
  
Hunters...we don't have any specific time allocation for that sort of thing. You meet someone, typically at the age of fifteen or sixteen, you get to know each other, then you decide if it'll work between the two of you and get married. No elaborate process of a wedding or anything...it's all a bit too impractical for my tastes.  
  
But, thinking about it like this, Ivalice doesn't follow that sort of ideology at all.  
  
What are you thinking? I look at him when he touches my face, cupping the side of it with with one large hand.  
  
Well...we aren't technically supposed to be together, so we'd have to start over' once the cardinal comes back, gently, I tug at my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to concisely put all my thoughts into words. It's hard for me, sometimes, I was just wondering what was the normal time for a relationship before we can go along with getting married.  
  
His fingers push through my hair, stroking the lock resting on my face. To tell you the truth, I hadn't even thought about that, he sighs, alright, how about this: just tell me what month you'd like, and I'm sure we can figure it out from there.  
  
...I don't believe we can fit what we want into a set time period. Everything needs its own time to grow, doesn't it?  
  
--_That's the very definition of magic, you know, to forcefully change the environment for your own benefit_--  
  
Hm. Is he going to do everything by magic?  
  
--_Ivalician magic is mostly based on one's own willpower_--  
  
Well, I suppose he would know.  
  
What month...I like it when it's hot. How about July?  
  
He makes a face at this. It's too hot. I'm not as blessed as you are.  
  
... Blessed'? He thinks I'm blessed? ...I don't know how to feel about that. How can you think that?  
  
Well, probably because I wear all black, even in the summer, he smiles at my frown, his fingers moving along my face as if they were trying to block out the wrinkles of that facial movement, sometimes, being normal just isn't all that great.  
  
...Really? Ah, I shouldn't dwell on this subject. Some things are just...no, I don't need to think about it now. Everything's fine now. Alright then, how about May?  
  
My suggestion seems to go over well, seeing that thoughtful look on his face with moonlight rippling over it. The middle of May, next year?  
  
I smile. That sounds great, I'm sure that would be enough time to form an acceptable' relationship...right? that's plausible, isn't it?  
  
Of course, especially if we started' dating in December or January, he nods. Slowly, a huge smile breaks out on his face, like the sun overcoming mountains to reach the top of the sky, May, next year. May, Pantora forty-eight. Six months from now. I like it, wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me, pulling away after a short time and looking straight into my eyes, we'll work out the actual date later.  
  
May. Springtime. A time when everything's blossoming and fresh.  
  
I like that.  
  
His smile is soft when I refocus on him. It's the kind of smile that makes me want to blush, though for vastly different reasons than the smile he aims at me when he's staring at my body. It makes me feel light, this soft smile. Not embarrassed, or interested, or even a bit smug--which really isn't very good--just light.  
  
In the presence of that smile, I feel really...loved. Or something even greater than that, I'm not quite sure.  
  
Is it possible for someone to feel something greater than love for another person?  
  
But even with this wonderfully mellow mood that a simple facial movement has put me into, I can't help but be curious. What's that smile for? I really like it.  
  
I really love it.  
  
I'm just thinking about you in a wedding dress, is it just me, or does he actually look a bit...embarrassed? you'd look amazing in one.  
  
A...wedding dress? Interesting. I guess I'll have plenty of time to make mine, then. What does one look like? I need references.  
  
He looks thoughtful. What did Sis say about that... white, for purity'. Yeah, something like that.  
  
...Purity?  
  
An uncomfortable silence sinks in. I'm not sure, but I don't know if I'm very pure by Church standards. Well, not anymore at any rate.  
  
Well, they don't need to know about that. Just wear a white dress anyway, this is a very reasonable suggestion, why don't you wear that one you used for that ball? That, on the other hand, is not the most reasonable suggestion.  
  
Why would I do that? I mean, it was made for the ball. It's done its duty and is now retired. It's also kind of...lazy to reuse it.  
  
He shrugs, though it looks a bit strange when done while lying on his side. Why only wear it once?  
  
...That is a good point. Not enough to change my mind, but it's a good point.  
  
I wonder what sort of design I should go with for a wedding dress? It seems I've used up all the very good job class designs, but maybe...hm. I'll have to check into that sometime.  
  
Hm, Beowulf's being quiet. I glance at him, noting his new smile, one I'm very familiar with. What's that smile for? I can't help but ask anyway. He grins.  
  
If you go with that Holy Knight dress, it just makes things even more convenient, he says, as if that would clear up what he means significantly.  
  
I don't understand? Though, I can't help but smile when his grin widens. That and one of his hands is slowly making its way to the front of my nightgown.  
  
You see, he states, fiddling around with its collar and tracing a finger over my collarbone, I already know how to take that one off. It opens in the front, right?  
  
Mm...well, that's a good incentive to use it.  
  
-----  
  
...Reis...my love...  
  
I don't bother to respond in words, I just hold him more tightly, smiling when he does the same in return. My breathing's just about returned to normal, though it seems that his heartbeat's still a bit erratic. It still has a nice rhythm to it, though. We're skin-to-skin from heated chests to tangled legs, and it's just so pleasant that I can feel myself slowly sinking into deep, everlasting sleep...  
  
I feel wet. Really sweaty, among other things.  
  
The first time I didn't mind at all. However, the effect of sweaty skin pressed against sweaty skin has long since lost its novelty. I want a bath.  
  
I start disentangling myself from him, which is a task easier said than done. Beowulf, let go.  
  
Slowly he opens one eye. He sounds disoriented.  
  
I'm going to the bath, I answer, and he loosens his grip enough that I can move away from him, out from the blanket, and off the bed. Where's my nightgown, robe...soap...  
  
he responds, yawning,   
  
...I don't think he's fully thinking right now. To take a bath, should I bring my hair soap too? Hm, might as well.  
  
he breathes out. The bed creaks as his weight shifts on it, I'll go with you.  
  
I look over at him as he goes in search of his own clothing.   
  
He grins as he pulls on his pants. To take a bath.  
  
...Maybe I'm not thinking either. Oh. Separately?  
  
Why would we do that? You're the only one with soap, he pulls on his jacket, let's use the men's side.  
  
I shrug. Whatever he likes is fine with me. We leave my room and quickly walk down the hallway to the bathhouse, all the overwhelming heat from earlier disappearing in the presence of the cold night air. Even I can tell it's cold, so I can't imagine how Beowulf is feeling. Entering the appropriate door, I look around. The men's side looks exactly like the women's side, except for the fires burning inside glass circles placed high above on the walls, between every two spigots. I guess the knights are expected to take baths later at night than the white mages.  
  
Beowulf takes the toiletries from my hands and places them down, then leads me over to a stool. You'll go first, alright?  
  
Well, if he says so. I take off my robe and nightgown, handing it to him when he comes back from filling up a bucket. Sitting complacently on the stool, I can see small wisps of steam rising from the bath itself. I didn't realize the bath was open this late...well, I don't know what time it is, but I'm sure it's pretty late. What time is it?  
  
I think it's past ten, he replies, and I can hear the distinct sounds of his disrobing. There are the steady sounds of his footsteps as he walks away from the bench lining the inside of the room, should I start off with the shampoo, or the soap?  
  
Shampoo'? What is this...   
  
There is a bottle in front of my face...my hair soap. This. What do you call it?  
  
'Hair soap', I answer, and he chuckles,   
  
That makes sense, but this is the first time I've ever heard it called that, I'm not sure...why is that funny? I'll start off with it, then, I can hear it being squeezed out of the bottle, then the sound the bottle makes against the floor. His hands grasp my hair, his fingers probing against my scalp as he rubs the...shampoo into my hair. I close my eyes. This feels nice.  
  
After too short of a time, he piles my lathered-up hair on the top of my head, patting it there. The gesture reminds me of my brothers playing in the mud after a rainstorm, trying to see who could make the largest pile of mud, but neither twin ever won because Quain would cry if Tyrei looked like he was winning, or Tyrei would kick over Quain's sculpture if the reverse happened. I used to get so exasperated over them!  
  
How funny...I really miss that now.  
  
There is the feeling of slickness against my back, sliding up and down, teasing me. It's hard not to relax to this, arms pooling in my lap as the soap massages deeper, more...over more of my back, down and up, down and up and over my left shoulder. Briefly he passes the soap down the length of my arm, his other hand lingering behind the soap to massage the residue into my skin. The soap makes a new trail over to my right arm, this time passing through my chest. Even in this haze, I'm half-expecting him to drop the soap now--this is quickly losing any pretense of cleansing. But he continues on, albeit a very long detour over and around the curves of my breasts that makes me think that he's enjoying this a little too much.  
  
Hm. I kind of like that.  
  
He presses against me after quickly lathering up my right arm, and my suspicions are confirmed. The soap delves down, running along my navel now as his lips touch the back of my ear. Do you like this, love?  
  
I smile. Yes. I suppose I won't have to ask the same, though.  
  
He pauses for a moment before bursting out in laughter. You're really amazing, you know that? Well, I can't help it, not when an extremely beautiful woman is letting me touch her anywhere I want, he leans over and kisses me on the edge of my jaw.  
  
Never mind that extremely beautiful woman' part, but... I always let you, though. I'd think you would be getting used to it by now.  
  
He runs the soap over the top of my thighs. Used to it by...what, two weeks? I'd hope not, at his urging, I spread my legs and stretch my right one back so he can reach from his position. I don't think he wants to move, it's probably unrealistic, but I hope I never get used to it.  
  
Hm, me neither. After he finishes with my right leg, I hold the left one back for him. He finishes this one quickly and moves the soap back up to my thighs, rubbing it in slow circles on the inside of my thighs...that feels great. I tilt my head up, my breathing more and more shallow as the circles grow, become wider, more...more...  
  
Reis, I hope you'll forgive me, he murmurs. I nod. He can do whatever he likes, I don't care, just kee--  
  
!!  
  
Shampoo suds drift down my face, falling from my chin and plopping onto my lap. Cold water drops do the same at a much more rapid pace. I can feel a thick chunk of my hair bend onto the back of my neck while water trickles uncomfortably down my back. if I say his name any louder than a whisper, it will probably be accompanied by something very unflattering.  
  
Sorry, but I'm done, he pauses, you still have a lot of soap left, the second and third dousings go by much more nicely. I don't say a thing. He leans over and I can see him in my peripheral vision, I should've warned you better about that first one, right?  
  
...What do you think? I say blandly, it's your turn now, isn't it?  
  
...Don't...don't worry about it. Let's get you into the bath, and all warmed up... he leads me over to the bath and helps me over into the very warm water, this is better, right? I'll be with you in a minute, love.  
  
...Hn. I sink into the water and glower at the opposite wall until I hear water splashing onto his body and he mutters something about cold water in the winter. Yes, it's pretty uncomfortable and surprising, isn't it? His feet pad down to the bath and he enters. After a long moment of silence, he does this weird thing...he's flailing around, but he easily moves through the water from one end to the other. Beowulf, what are you doing?  
  
He stops that weird movement and smiles at me. He looks a little relieved, actually. I'm swimming. I used to do that a lot when I was a kid, excitement crosses over his face, do you want to learn?  
  
...Well, it wouldn't be very useful since there aren't many large bodies of water in Lionel, but...why not? Alright. What do I do?  
  
Reaching out to me, he puts an arm around my shoulders. First, we'll get you used to floating, ... floating'? Like the legendary airships of the Yudora Empire? Oh, maybe he means more like a boat. Interesting...people can do that? I nod, and his hold on my shoulders tightens as he reaches underwater to the back of my legs, lifting me up. He moves his arm out from under me, replacing it with a hand between my shoulder blades.  
  
I'm laid out on the water with only a hand on my back and under my knees.  
  
It's kind of scary, to be honest.  
  
I murmur, trying my best to get my bearings, let go of me.  
  
He does so, and I slowly begin to sink...what...this isn't floating...up, up! I desperately keep my nose up, especially after my mouth is submerged...alright, I'm not sinking anymore. Great, what do I do when I want to talk? You don't float very well, I can hear Beowulf observe, though it sounds slightly muffled with my ears being underwater and all, maybe what he said was true after all... the smallest stone sinks faster than the largest feather.'  
  
...A fine grasp of the obvious there. At least it doesn't sound like anything Beowulf would say. Straining a bit, I manage to get my lips past the barrier of water. Who...said that? Ah, air!  
  
Wiegraf did, but he was talking about actions versus words, I look at him blankly, in this case, you're really slender but you actually have a lot of muscle on you as well, so, that makes me a stone. Well, better than something that blows around in the lightest breeze.  
  
What...do I do...now? I think I'm losing the struggle here...  
  
He gets a hold of me again, just one hand under the small of my back, enough that I can breathe and talk without struggling. Do you know how to roll? I nod. I'd hope so, considering that it's a good technique for avoiding attacks by various monsters. Okay, try and do that onto your stomach, the water doesn't help, but I manage to do what he says. He has a hand under my stomach, and he places his other on the small of my back, now that you're used to the water, this is the actual swimming. It's a lot of fun.  
  
If he says so.   
  
Hm...say you were walking on a bridge when it suddenly collapsed, so you had to reach out and grab the edge of the cliff you were closest to. Do that kind of motion with one arm, after a sidelong glance at him, I do so with my left arm, now the other arm, I repeat with my left, great. Okay, now do that so that one arm will be constantly reaching, ...oh, one after the other? Left, right, left, right, okay, this isn't so bad... and kick through the water as if you were walking, ...is it just me, or are there too many instructions for this? I splash around, feeling weird, and then he lets go of me.  
  
...I'm still afloat? This...this is fun! Wait, the end of the bath is quickly approaching...how do I turn? I don't have enough space!  
  
My arms hit the wall and I stop swimming, with the unfortunate side affect of starting to sink instead. Well, it was fun while it lasted. Quickly putting myself into a standing position, I make my way over to Beowulf. It seems that I can't turn, either I need to learn, or I need a larger body of water.  
  
I'll teach you that next time, he places a hand on my head, running his fingers through the wet strands of my hair, you did really well. A lot better than me the first time I tried, that's for sure.  
  
I shake my head. He can be so ridiculous sometimes... Why did you learn in the first place?  
  
Well, I didn't have anything else to do, that's a straightforward answer, most nobles have their children taught by tutors until they're old enough to go to an academy, but...well, of course Mum didn't care about me, so I had a lot of free time. I'd go out into the woods with a whole bunch of kids from the poorer areas of town and go diving in the lakes and whatnot.  
  
--_True, but I meant that you were young, so why not enjoy your childhood?_--  
  
Is that a childhood'? Playing around all day? I suppose that's okay, but I wouldn't have given up my youth for anyone else's. What about your education?  
  
Hm, the maids taught me a lot about math, and whenever Sis was home she'd always make me stay home and attempt to teach me everything she learned at the academy, the water stirs as he turns around, facing the entrance of the bathhouse, I know you learned a lot about your lifestyle when you lived at Bariaus Hill, but what about when you went to Murond?  
  
I sigh. That time... I didn't know how to read, so they taught me that. But they said that I learned it abnormally fast for my social class', so they taught me the form of ancient Ivalician found in Murond. That was easy too, so they decided I was a prodigy and taught me all sorts of dialects, mathematical theorems...basically anything they could, shrugging, I look up at him, I'm supposed to be an example of how the Church can improve the lives of commoners, I believe.  
  
he nods, looking thoughtful, you must be the type of person that can be easily attuned to anything, pulling himself out of the bath, he holds out a hand to me, let's go back. I feel like I'm going to be one big wrinkle if I stay in there any longer.  
  
Ah, sleep sounds good right now. I grasp his hand, which is as shriveled up as mine is. Alright then.  
  
It's strange, those lessons that we're taught in life. Of course, education in the more formal studies of reading and writing is good if you're planning to live out where it's a necessity. It's not a necessity everywhere; I don't think my parents knew anything about that. They were more concerned with the cohesiveness of the family and hunting techniques, among other things. And Beowulf didn't have the formal education of a noble--though it doesn't seem to make a difference--but he learned how to swim and get along with people from different social backgrounds.  
  
What is the most important thing to learn?  
  
I'm looking forward to learning how to turn while swimming.  
  
-----  
  
--_This is going to sound a little weird, but could you not meet me at the barracks anymore? Just until I say it's okay, alright?_--  
  
I don't like the sound of that. Hopefully he'll tell me why soon...but even so, it doesn't sound right.  
  
Sighing at my mind's insistence on bothering me with those words, I meander through the alleyways, feeling about as dark as the clouds filling up the sky. They're not excruciatingly dark, but even though it's barely noon they're still very ominous. Yet, they still don't unleash their burden onto the earth below.  
  
Ah, maybe it is accurate.  
  
The shopping area is fairly bare. The clouds must be intimidating most of the shoppers...not to talk of the outdoor vendors. This is something I've noticed about this town; in the winter people are slow to wake and prefer to stay inside most, if not all, of the day. For this reason alone, we've gotten away with having him leave at seven; during late spring and summer he'd have to leave much earlier than that.  
  
It's too early either way.  
  
The only time this isn't true is on Sundays, when all the parishioners start coming in at seven, so we've just decided that six out of seven days is really good enough.  
  
We appreciate all we can get.  
  
But, we don't have lunch or dinner so much anymore. I miss that, just sharing lunch and talking. We still talk a lot, but it's also overshadowed by our physical needs...wants. I don't need it, but it is nice. Great. Wonderful.  
  
...Ah, I was looking for the restaurant where we were supposed to meet at...there it is. The inside's completely full. Well...it's not that bad out here. Approaching the restaurant, I sit outside at one of the tables and wait for the waitress. She comes out shortly, very bundled up in layers of material. Are you sure you'll be okay out here?  
  
I nod. I'm sure.  
  
Well, if you say so, she hands me a menu, then stares at me quizzically, her brown hair very dark against her pale skin and reddened cheeks, don't you usually have a male companion with you? One of the knights?  
  
I nod again. He'll be arriving shortly.  
  
Okay then, I'll just find another menu for him, she smiles widely. It's strange, but I can't help but wonder if that's really a natural smile for her, if you feel too cold, please tell me and I'll try to locate a table inside for you!  
  
Thank you, I murmur, opening the menu as she leaves. Ah, I really shouldn't have salad today...maybe a stew of some type?  
  
Hey look, it's Miss Reis.  
  
Hm? Where...?  
  
Hn, should I be impressed or something?  
  
Of course not, but...that still didn't sound very nice. These are men talking so far, and they sound like some of the knights.  
  
No, but even if you don't like her, you shouldn't be rude about a lady.  
  
Don't like me...well, I get that a lot, but only from the white mages up until now. What have I done to the knights to make one of them dislike me?  
  
A lady? A whore is more like it.  
  
...What? That word...haven't I heard it before?  
  
--_A woman who sells her body for sex_--  
  
That's what Peppermint said, but...I'm not exactly understanding. There has to be some other meaning...I'm not... selling'? He's saying something slightly different at least, isn't he?  
  
Either way, it still hurts.  
  
God, you don't call our leader's fiancé a whore! What kind of idiot are you? She's right across the damn alley!  
  
Oh. That's why they sound so close by. They're behind me, at the restaurant on the other side of the alley I just walked out of. Hm. I didn't even notice them.  
  
You're the one who's yelling. And what, I'm not allowed to express an opinion that, by the way, most of us hold? No way in hell I'm gonna respect either of them now.  
  
What...what did we do that was so wrong?  
  
...Wait. Most of them?  
  
Nah, Sir Kadmus is still okay. Anyway, can you really blame him? If she's going to offer herself up to him...damn, if I were him, I'd go for it.  
  
Even in a church?  
  
...Yeah, that's going too far.  
  
...Oh. That...I didn't even think about that. It's convenient because I have my own room, but...it's still a church. I'm not religious...we're both not, but...  
  
This...this really is Church-owned Lionel.  
  
You know, you Ivalicians...you all have a strange way of thinking. So it's okay if he does it, but not the woman? Not even if they were already in a relationship?  
  
Wait...that's a problem too? I'm not allowed...? Because Peppermint taught me about sex in such an open manner, I thought...  
  
Isn't it okay?  
  
Tanaka, I don't know what you all do back in your country, but here it's not acceptable behavior. We're civilized here.  
  
So, would you like to explain to me about that war that's going to go on its forty-eighth year soon? Is that what civilized countries do, go to war with all their neighbors and alienate themselves?  
  
Okay, okay, both of you calm down. We're all knights here, remember? Even if our leader can't handle himself, the rest of us can at least look acceptable as Shrine Knights.  
  
Eh...what? But Beowulf...I was the one who gave him that choice, so why does he look bad? Because he took it?  
  
Y'all are making way too big a deal about this, y'know? I just don't see what the problem is.  
  
That voice is familiar...  
  
You're standing up for them too, Mikner? Riola sure as hell isn't, and you always follow his lead.  
  
Yeah, and the one time I didn't, Miss Reis saved me. She's totally cool in my eyes. Sides, Sam just doesn't like the whole fact that Sir Kadmus is obviously sleeping over in the church. He's cool about everything else.  
  
And you are? You're the one in love with her.  
  
...What?  
  
--_And like, even before today I had this major crush on you..._--  
  
Hm. I thought he was delirious...  
  
I'll get over it. I figured I'd never get a chance with her anyway, but there's nothing wrong with dreaming about it.  
  
And you also don't mind Sir Kadmus?  
  
  
  
You aren't even looking at things logically. When that priest finds out--because Sir Kadmus practically made her room his new home--there's gonna be a huge thing about it. That priest is nothing less than vicious, the bastard. It could reverberate throughout all of Lionel, even to the ranks in Murond...then what? Most of the priests barely tolerate us as is, and Sir Kadmus is going to screw that all up because he found out he could get it free from some cold slut who doesn't even know how to smile?  
  
You know, those two words don't go well together. Cold slut'? Isn't that a contradiction?  
  
Shut it, Tanaka.  
  
He does have a point there. And Brunson, if you ever call Miss Reis anything like that again, you're going to regret it.  
  
Mikner, don't even try to act tough. You're a failure at it. Not even Riola would back you up.  
  
You say that like I'd need back up. I mean, it's just you.  
  
Godammit, both of you, shut up!  
  
What were we talking about again? Miss Reis? Figures. She's only across the way and she's doing all this. I guess that's just how women are.  
  
...So, this is what I've done. I didn't even think...was my choice really that bad? I never thought that there would be consequences like these...being insulted is one thing, but Beowulf...  
  
--_I mean, Sir Kadmus has more people depending on him than just you. He's a knight, but he's also a leader. He's already affected all the knights in this town; how long before he gets to everyone in this region?_--  
  
Miss Alia said that after my horrible choice, that time at the ball. But this choice, this was a good choice! We're both happy, but the same reaction is happening again.  
  
No...it's even worse.  
  
--_This is going to sound a little weird, but could you not meet me at the barracks anymore? Just until I say it's okay, alright?_--  
  
Is this the reason why you asked that of me, Beowulf? You knew...didn't you?  
  
Is this your way of protecting me?  
  
Lowering my head, I take deep, unsteady breaths. I feel sick. This...all of this...it makes me sick. My own decision being reviled when it really shouldn't have anything to do with them...finding out this way...  
  
If they're talking about me, I deserve to know.  
  
At least, that's what I think I deserve. Apparently Beowulf knows better than me.  
  
I resent that.  
  
-----  
  
Reis, you've been kind of quiet today.  
  
I don't look over at him, instead keeping my eyes on the ceiling. We're not even touching right now...I really don't want to be touched right now.  
  
This has gone on too long. I need to speak up now, before we get married and I forget...I forget that in theory we're supposed to be equals. Equals that help each other, equals that don't hold back from the other.  
  
--_I don't want you to fight_--  
  
We're equals. Really.  
  
--_I would've never let you find her if I had known it was more than a sprain. I probably shouldn't have, anyway..._--  
  
I hate that. More than anything, I really hate that. I'd like to think that I deserve to be given some human decency, to be told things that affect me. I'm trying hard, very hard, to break out of holding back important things, but I have a feeling that Beowulf would've never made the effort to tell me about this. Why?  
  
--_He just wanted to protect you_--  
  
This...this is not protecting' me. I never asked to be protected.  
  
I didn't crawl back to this level of humanity to be protected.'  
  
I did it because I wanted to be on an equal level with him.  
  
His body shifts, the bed creaking accordingly. What's wrong?  
  
So caring. So loving. So concerned.  
  
It's completely irrational, but it makes me even more irritated to hear those words said in that tone.  
  
my voice sounds so bland, it surprises me. I haven't heard it sound like this since Murond... why didn't you tell me that your coming here would cause so much trouble?  
  
Right now, while he's here, he's affecting his knights in the worst way.  
  
He says nothing, just sighing as a response. How do you know about that? Beowulf's tone matches mine in its deadness.  
  
I really wasn't supposed to know, was I? I overheard it today, before you arrived for lunch.  
  
I see, he exhales slowly, then places his arm over my waist and leans in close, his lips lightly touching my ear in that familiar way, don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.  
  
--_I don't want you to fight_--  
  
They sound the same.  
  
The past and the present, they sound the same. They haven't changed.  
  
I pull away from him, sitting up and leaning against the wall next to the bed. Why didn't you tell me?  
  
But I have.  
  
He shakes his head, sitting up and staring at me. It's not something you needed to know.  
  
--_It could reverberate throughout all of Lionel, even to the ranks in Murond...then what?_--  
  
How can you say that? I'm nothing short of incredulous. Is he listening to what he's saying? It affects everyone. You're a leader, Beowulf. What you do affects everyone. Why didn't...why didn't you mention anything about what could happen if we do get caught? And me... I grit my teeth and look directly in his eyes, it has everything to do with me. So why don't I deserve to know?  
  
Whose room is this? Whose invitation let you inside? Who let their choice be known in the first place?  
  
And still, he decides that I don't need to know.  
  
He keeps his eyes on me. I was just trying to protect you from this. I didn't want you to be hurt.  
  
--_A lady? A whore is more like it_--  
  
It hurts even more that you didn't tell me, I whisper, fingers digging painfully into my thighs, it hurts that I had to hear it...eavesdrop on your men to find out. It hurts...I don't need to be protected. Not in this way.  
  
I was protecting myself just fine. I was practically dead inside, an emotionally-inept girl fully immersed in illusions. But I clawed my way through those illusions, through my own barriers, into reality...for what? To be protected from it?  
  
What was all that effort for, then?  
  
I'm sorry, he mutters, an edge to his voice that I've never had directed at me before, you don't need me to protect you. You need to hear that everybody thinks I'm an idiot for coming over and spending the night with you. You need to hear that I'm not even sure I could find a shred of respect from the men I've worked with for three years anymore. You need to hear all this and more, and how I can't do anything to stop it because _I'm a leader_ and it's not very fair-minded to try and stop people I was once friends with from saying the most hateful things about you because there isn't a rule against that.  
  
But of course, protecting you is a waste of time because you don't need me for that, he looks away, and it affects me more than his words, God, Reis, I knew you wouldn't appreciate this, but I wouldn't have minded a thank you' either.  
  
And just like that, my anger dissipates.  
  
I don't know what to think. I feel justified in my anger, but...I'm also ashamed.  
  
There is absolutely no way to hold a controlled argument. Not with human feelings. With monsters, arguments lead to someone's death.  
  
Humans usually aren't so lucky.  
  
My memory will never forgive me.  
  
My lips are moving, but it isn't until I consciously force my voice to act that words spill from them. What does Sir Chiroseau think? After all, I don't think that he would abandon Beowulf.  
  
He laughs, a dead, hollow sound that repeats in exactly the same tone. He morally objects...I mean, he's angry at me, but not at you. There aren't very many that think that, you know. He said...what was it... you're supposed to get married first. Do you know how this is going to look for Miss Reis? Don't you have any sense of responsibility? Or maybe an understanding of actions and their consequences? Now everybody thinks it's her fault when it's just yours. Did you even think?'  
  
It is my fault.  
  
My fault. Beowulf's fault. Our fault.  
  
But I started it.  
  
I'm sorry, bowing my head at first, I press my forehead against the bed, a lump in my throat forming as my eyes get too wet for their own good, I'm so sorry... and my wet eyes start leaking tears even when I close my eyes so tightly that my jaw reflexively clenches.  
  
I say I don't want to be protected, and then I act like it's the only thing I need.  
  
You don't need to apologize...Reis... there are hands on my shoulders, pulling me up . I go along with it, making no attempt to hide my scrunched-up face and the falling tears, God, it's not the end of the world, this isn't worth it... he wraps his arms around me tightly, stroking my hair while I pitifully try to grasp at the last of my self-dignity.  
  
But it feels good to let it slip through my fingers.  
  
After awhile, though, I manage to get it back. Sniffling a bit, I try to pull away but he doesn't let me. Tilting my head up, I look right into his dark eyes. Something in those eyes... I love you, he murmurs, and suddenly I understand.  
  
I love you, so much...maybe too much.  
  
It's too late to change that. I wouldn't want to.  
  
He smiles, but it's different. Let's be as selfish as possible.  
  
my smile mirrors his, dark and with all ignorance shattered.  
  
--_Even if you make a choice that no one can agree with, if you have a reason to make that choice, then the only judgment that holds any weight at all is God's_--  
  
This is true. It doesn't seem like it, it certainly doesn't feel like it, but it does make me feel better about everything.  
  
Even if all it leads to is disappointment and insults, losing friends and being alienated, I will stay with my choices. I won't be protected from their results, from their unintended consequences. I struggled to get to this point, and anything less than seeing what happens in its fully glory is unacceptable.  
  
It's beautiful outside the walls.

-End to chapter 26-

First off, this was barely proofed. Personally, I'm blaming Final Fantasy X and monster-capturing (stupid Simurghs!) and bribing (stupid Machea!). Secondly, this is another one of those month-in-a-chapter chapters, except not as tightly written as chapter 24. I want to shove in another chapter, but the end has to come sometime...  
  
-For those of you unfamiliar with the myth of Eros and Psyche, all you have to know is that the title couple only met at night until Psyche dared to break her promise to Eros. That's all I'm saying as it is one of my favorite Greco-Roman myths.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Hey, Luna. Well, you do have a good point there that Beowulf has never interacted with any children--unless you'd like to consider 12-year-old Mustadio a child--but he is also more than old enough to want to settle down. Plus, in the second part of his interlude, he basically assumed he was going to have children later on. But that's pretty vague, isn't it?  
Are there any good sex scenes in fanfiction? I think I've read one out of way too many to admit to. The problem lies in trying to write about an act that is both physical and emotional; most people tend not to even bother making the two balance.  
I'm happy to hear that you got some rest on your break, though school tends to drain faster than than rest can restore. -- What book are you researching?  
Well, at least you know the myth, though Eros is the Greek; Cupid is the Roman. I'll admit though...I figured you were going to take a shot at the quote, so I just put up the most controversial-sounding one. Heh. I'll be fair this time...  
  
Yo, The Burning Misery. I wish I had DSL, I'm still stuck on 56k. But, that city you live in is a nice place...well, if nothing else, I like the Claim Jumpers near the mall.  
It's the weirdest thing, but I don't feel motivated to write unless I'm going to school regularly. I just don't feel like writing on my school breaks. So, I understand.  
Let me just thank you for not insisting I play the greatest RPG ever!' I've been completely spoiled as far as the game goes, and I find the SNES FFs to have cuter sprites than those weird lego people in VII.  
Well, the reasons for marrying someone tend to be out of three concepts: children, regulating sexual access, and for economic reasons. Marrying for love is very recent, though having affairs out of love has been around for centuries. Don't mind me, I just took a test on this so it's still fresh on my mind. While I don't see FFT as having a medieval setting--at least, not purely--the idea of marrying mainly for children or rank was firmly in my mind for all socioeconomic groups. I do agree with you, of course, but that would be extremely liberal thinking for whatever time period FFT is supposed to emulate.  
As you can see, I've probably thought too much about this.  
  
MavGunloc...I basically told you everything that I wanted to say/ask, so I'm just going to thank you for your review. I hope we can talk again soon!  
  
Hello, Jaded Soul. I think I'm happy to be asked what I think, actually. I looked over the sentence in question and decided that, for plotline considerations, that completely' was extraneous anyway. Thank you for pointing that out, and I'm painfully looking forward to all the corrections you'll be making to this chapter!  
I'm going to guess that Berserk is one of your favorite--if not your favorite--manga/anime, huh? Well then, with a recommendation like that, I'll definitely look into buying some of the manga soon!  
  
Wow, I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon, Mavina! Beowulf is a weird person, but could you explain a little more? I think I have an idea of what you're referring to, though, and I'll probably change the interaction a bit once I get the chance. Thanks for pointing it out, in any case.  
  
Chapter 27: Sunset (_Monochromatic Harvest_): Priest Buremonda, don't _ever_ touch me again.


	30. 27: Sunset

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 27: Sunset (_Monochromatic Harvest_)  
  
I'm not sure what happiness' means.  
  
Everyone wants to be happy. I know I do. But finding happiness, gaining happiness, keeping happiness...that's a bit more complicated. And once a person finds it, gains it, keeps it for a short while...that person will always want more. That is what completely separates humans from monsters; humans live their lives in pursuit of the very best thing they can imagine, and then they hunt for something else, something new. But monsters already know what true' happiness is and they cling to it desperately. To them, living is the ultimate happiness, because you can't do anything without being alive to do it.  
  
In this way, I know that I am truly a human.  
  
Humans don't appreciate things until they've lost it, or nearly lost it. Even in the latter case, their appreciation will only be heightened until they forget about that time they nearly lost that thing. It makes me wonder: do I truly appreciate Beowulf and all the wonderful things he's done for me, or am I just clinging onto him, the first silver of happiness in my life after Bariaus Hill? I know I love him, I really do, but there are always doubts.  
  
Does that mean I love him less because they're there?  
  
This type of love...I can never be completely secure about it. It's just so weird, so strange. I don't want to ask him about this, or tell him about my doubts. He gets worried easily when it comes to me. Only me. Everything else...to him, everything else is just that.  
  
--_Let's be as selfish as possible_--  
  
It scares me even more that I feel the same way.  
  
Thinking like this, love is at once the most selfish, the most selfless emotion that humans can achieve. Other than that, it's as undefinable as happiness'.  
  
Only humans could possibly come up with concepts like these.  
  
Good morning, slightly chapped lips press against my cheek, did you sleep well?  
  
Thank God I'm a human.  
  
Mm, I did, turning to my right, I can't help but smile at Beowulf's sleepy expression, did you?  
  
With the back of one large hand, he rubs at bleary eyes. Yeah, I...I actually did, he sounds surprised at this development. From what I can gather from some recent hazy memories, it would be more unexpected if he hadn't, is it really morning? Doesn't feel like it...  
  
I shrug. Shades of gray filtering into my room is a gloomy way to signify the morning, but it works just as well. Actually, I'm not so sure; this is hours before I normally wake up. We've decided to stop meeting at night at the end of this week, since Beowulf should ideally be at the barracks when the cardinal arrives, so I'll be getting my normal amount of sleep in a few days.  
  
I can't say for sure that the quality of sleep will be as good, though.  
  
At least it isn't raining anymore, he continues, sounding more cheerful, I was hoping the snow would come soon. The town looks better with snow on it.  
  
That's true, it's very good at covering the plainness of the town, sort of like how Ajora's twisted way of speaking covers up the fact that he has nothing important to say, though it's a lot colder because of it, isn't it?  
  
That's what I'm here for, love, he wraps an arm over my shoulder and holds me, placing a kiss on my forehead, at least now I can take you to Bariaus Valley. Is that a good first date'?  
  
A picnic and sightseeing in the snow? Well, at least there won't be any monsters bothering us, but... I think that we should stay in town for the first few dates, I can't help but let a measure of seriousness enter my words. We won't necessarily be dating again for our own sakes, after all. I have a feeling I'd prefer the uninhibited style of before to the very proper style I can only imagine the cardinal and Verden wanting us to go through.  
  
Before that, I'll have to figure out how to regain my formal manner toward the man who has shared my bed for almost a month. That promises to be fun.  
  
...Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten, he shakes his head before giving me a superficial grin...it doesn't seem right, somehow. Perhaps he's thinking of the same things I am, it's all a little ridiculous, but formalities generally are, his expression darkens slightly, I suppose I'm not allowed to hug you until the first month's gone by, too.  
  
What...? Why would you say that?  
  
Proper conduct, my love, the world revolves around it, he sighs, or, at least, the appearance of proper conduct helps. Behind closed doors is another matter entirely.  
  
And here I thought the world revolved around war. Why don't we go on a lot of dates, then? If we speed everything up, then everything's fine, right?  
  
I'd like something a little more tangible than my own memory.  
  
Am I asking for too much?  
  
There's an odd glimmer lurking in Beowulf's eyes...it's strange. My first reaction is to become completely blank, and at this an apologetic expression crosses his face. Actually, I'll probably be overworked, so I'll be seeing you less than before...well, this.  
  
...Overworked? There's more work in his regular duties than in taking care of the town while Draclau was gone? Considering how much time he spent with me...either it must be very easy to take care of a town, or there must be a completely horrendous amount of work in his usual job. What do Temple Knights really do, anyway? It's kind of sad that I still don't really know what sort of duties he normally has.  
  
I'm surprised, for some reason, I feel like this is a bad territory to tread in... you've been running a town as well as commanding all the knights in Lionel, yet we've managed to see each other quite a bit... judging by the look on his face, I probably shouldn't dig any further, but...  
  
--_It's not something you needed to know_--  
  
Hm. If it's classified, that's one thing--and it wouldn't surprise me in the least, considering how shrouded in secrecy Temple Knights are--but I can at least ask.  
  
Beowulf is studying my face. That's something I'm used to. The way his eyes familiarly dart over my lips, my cheeks, my eyes...that is something I'm very used to. However, he usually has a smile while he's doing it.  
  
There's something he's not telling me, right?  
  
Somehow, I'm not surprised.  
  
Finally, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he relaxes. I have to travel a lot around Lionel, that's why. That's a...requirement, I guess you can say, I don't know why...I believe this, but if the answer was this simple, why...? I'm planning on limiting those trips, though, so we'll see what happens.  
  
... there's probably no point in pursuing this, as long as we can see each other somewhat regularly, it's fine with me.  
  
Exactly what I was thinking, he grins, though I'm not sure if it's because he's genuinely happy, or if he's just relieved that I'm not prying anymore.  
  
--_Reis, if you don't want to remember or tell me, you don't have to_--  
  
It's hard to be that passive. I wonder how Beowulf manages it? In my last persona, it would've been easy, so pathetically easy, to just decide that it's none of my business. If it doesn't concern me, why should I care?  
  
Things aren't quite that simple anymore.  
  
Hm. I'll try to respect that there are things he can't--won't--tell me. I don't like it, but I'll try. Just as long as he tells me later, like I was able to eventually.  
  
Hn.  
  
Is this some sort of divine retribution? A joke I'm not getting? What's the meaning of this role reversal all of a sudden?  
  
Is something wrong? You look... I'm not sure about how I look--apparently I've lost my wonderful blank' default expression...I wonder if that's a bad thing?--but he looks like he desperately needs a word, ah, annoyed.  
  
Alright, I've decided not to think about what Beowulf could be hiding now, so I must not bring it up. A hunter only strikes as many times as is necessary; anything more makes that person look cruel and unwilling to move on...  
  
I'm not exactly the type that moves on' very easily...  
  
Resolve. I must have resolve. It's nothing.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at this. Are you sure? You seem distracted.  
  
This isn't fair. With some effort, I manage to dredge up a blank expression. Don't worry about me, I'm fine.  
  
great, he looks worried now, well, if you don't want to tell me, I'll understand. I just thought that we'd gotten to the point where we could freely talk about things, that's all.  
  
...  
  
--_It's not something you needed to know_--  
  
How strange, so did I, oh no, I'm dragging myself right into this situation again...  
  
He looks at me blankly for a moment, then he pulls away from me and looks straight up at the ceiling. How odd...he doesn't seem to be very affected. Actually...is he smiling? Do you think I'm hiding something from you?  
  
...I hope that's a rhetorical question. I honestly do. The alternative makes me sad. Are you?  
  
There is a smile on his lips as he glances at me. I don't know why he's smiling, but if it's to irritate me, it's working very well. Yes, I am.  
  
...This reminds me of something. What was it?  
  
--_Hello, that's a nice case you have there. But with the way you've been running around, I won't ask if it's yours_--  
  
Ah, yes. The first words I had ever heard him say weren't to me, but to that thief. Thinking about it now, Beowulf was probably intentionally provoking him to act first. Either that or that flippant sense of humor of his likes to come out at the worst of times. It has to be the latter; why would he need to provoke _me_, after all?  
  
You know, I think it's incredible how much you've changed, he mentions idly, reaching out and stroking my hair, I like it a lot more when it shows on your face how annoyed or frustrated you are with me...like right now, that sheepish tone isn't going to lessen my annoyance any, but his words...well, I suppose I feel a bit calmer.  
  
Still... Beowulf, were you trying to provoke me? I ask quietly.  
  
I don't like my feelings to be manipulated because of a whim.  
  
Slowly, he removes his hand from my hair. No, I was being serious, but--  
  
--dingdingDONGding--  
  
--I probably should start going... easily, too easily, he gets up from the bed and starts going through the process of putting on his clothes. I look up and fervently hope that the clock tower and those excessively loud bells freeze over soon. Sitting up, my back against the headboard, I look over at my window, smiling a little at the shuffling noises beside my bed. After a few minutes of this, I can feel the familiar shifting of the bed as he sits next to me, one of his hands just above my right knee.  
  
I look over at him, smiling inwardly at his messy hair. Reaching out with my right hand while my left holds up the blanket in front of my chest--just because he's seen me nude doesn't mean I shouldn't have a semblance of modesty when daytime is approaching--I try to smooth back the strands from falling in his eyes, I'm sorry, but I can't honestly say that it's fine if you don't want to tell me something.  
  
He nods, though he doesn't exactly look comfortable hearing my words. That's fine. As long as you're being honest, that's fine, but... a sigh escapes past his lips as he gently grasps my hand from his hair, holding it between his hands, I can't tell you about this.  
  
... 'This' having to do with your job? Is it really so bad? I'm trying to be as gentle as possible with my tone, but even though it sounds soft to my ears, he stares at me with wide eyes. I don't see why he's so surprised; I was just trying not to sound too harsh.  
  
His job can't be that bad...I mean, at least he gets to travel. All I do is sit indoors all day...  
  
It's worse than that, he says flatly, his countenance like stone, it's a mistake I made years ago, and it doesn't have anything to do with you. So, please don't ask about it anymore.  
  
Slowly, I pull my hand away from his. I'm so confused. Looking into his blank face, dark eyes even darker with the shades of gray spilling into the room, I...is that really him? Is this really the man who, just last night, was whispering about how much he loved me, how much he would continue to love me for the rest of our lives? How can I equate that Beowulf with this one, this man with his cold eyes in a stonily blank face?  
  
I'm surprised he even bothered to stay with me if I was anything like how he's acting right now.  
  
--_When we find this person, or if we run into a monster...I don't want you to fight_--  
  
He always makes me promise bad things.  
  
Slowly, I nod twice. Alright, if it's that important to you.  
  
It is, he lets go of my hand, something of an apologetic smile on his face, I'd better go.  
  
I reach out, cupping his face with my right hand as I press my lips against his in a quick kiss, have a good day at work.  
  
...You too, he murmurs while looking miserable, although I'm not sure if it's because of his work or if he's showing how he truly feels about all of this.  
  
If it's the latter, then I suppose we're mirroring each other.  
  
He leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft clicking noise, and I feel like hiding underneath all my blankets and sleeping the whole day away. It's a good way to escape. But I have work, or an unreasonable facsimile of it.  
  
Might as well go. After all, it can't get much worse than this.  
  
-----  
  
This isn't work.  
  
I finished translating the last book a few weeks ago, and Verden never assigned me another. I had asked him if there was another book that needed translation, but...  
  
--_Please, don't worry about it. I would like it if you would continue going to the library. Do whatever you wish, and if there is any work I can find for you to do, I will let you know immediately_--  
  
Apparently his idea of work is for me to visit him in his office and have a cup of tea with him. That's fine every once in awhile, but I seem to be having tea with him on a daily basis now. Even though I'm not doing the job I was transferred over for, he's still paying me my salary. Getting paid for nothing sounds nice until it actually happens. Now...I just feel weird about it. There are people starving from the famines, but I'm getting paid for nothing.  
  
It makes me feel uncomfortable.  
  
Feeling more than a little bored, I glance through the book I had been reading for the last few days. It's on the zodiac, and it's very boring, mainly because it all seems sort of...foolish. There's a lot about the placement of the stars and such, but I've never really cared about anything like that. I think they look fine as is without forcing one to find pictures in them.  
  
Humans really are arrogant, trying to force their limited vision onto the limitless stars.  
  
About the only thing I learned was that Libra, Beowulf's sign, and Aquarius, which the squiggly lines on Beowulf's heirloom are supposed to form the sigil of, are part of the air' trinity. Wow, very impressive. What am I supposed to do with that sort of knowledge?  
  
--_It's essential in certain magic spells, but one can also use it to predict a general part of a person's personality_--  
  
Hm, well...I don't know about magic, but whatever happened to just talking to a person to figure out their personality? It's not that difficult.  
  
It's actually kind of fun.  
  
How strange. I thought I'd be all alone here, like usual, but I've met so many interesting people. Even though it's sad when one of them leaves, there is always another person to meet.  
  
And there has always been Beowulf.  
  
Always...  
  
I can hear the door open behind me, soft, feminine steps approaching me at my normal spot. Excuse me, Head Cataloger Dular?  
  
I haven't heard that title in awhile. I turn around in my seat, spotting a delicate-looking white mage, her face the only thing visible in her regulation cloak, standing a respectable distance away from me.  
  
Priest Buremonda would like to see you immediately, her voice is like a wind chime blowing faintly in a summer breeze. Pleasant enough, but not something I could stand for too long. Hm, strange, Verden usually approaches me himself. Nodding at her message, I rise from my seat and follow her to the other side of the church, past the cafeteria doors to the very end of the hall. This young girl--well, between her voice and her short stature she seems young--opens the door for me, and I step inside Verden's office.  
  
As far as offices go, it's a nice one. Certainly it's more organized and with more of a personal touch than Beowulf's little room. The room is not naturally well-lighted, so there are candles held in holders along the walls. There are two bookcases in the back of the room, with a large desk between them. This is where Verden is, head lowered, his elbows resting on the desktop and his hands straight along his forehead. If it were summer, his hands would look as if they were shielding him from the sun; now they just cover his face in shadows.  
  
Priest Buremonda, I've brought Head Cataloger Dular, just like you requested, the girl chimes up. Hm, that's odd, no teapot on his desk...?  
  
Thank you, Ariel. Please return to your duties, Verden's voice is soft. It's always soft, but right now it has something of an ethereal quality.  
  
It doesn't reverberate well in my ears.  
  
Of course, Priest Buremonda, she bows deeply, then quickly leaves. The door opens, letting in some of the gray atmosphere and momentarily lighting up the room, then closes, the candles flickering in the darkness. Verden does not raise his head.  
  
I take a step forward. You sent for me, Verden? Should I make a pot of tea?  
  
he whispers low enough that I'm sure a human wouldn't have heard him. Letting his hands drop, he looks up at me.  
  
I have always though Verden to be a bit androgynous in his looks. He looks like an angel from the pictures hanging in the halls of Murond's main cathedral, except for his short hair. Even though he's obviously older than me, he still maintains a beauty that I can't help but feel plain next to. This is due to the tranquil expression nearly always on his face, as well as his gentle smile.  
  
He's not smiling now.  
  
Verden...is something wrong? He looks a bit miserable...  
  
He stares at me, the dark circles under his eyes giving his gaze an ominous effect. I wonder why he hasn't slept...he's never mentioned anything about insomnia before. he breathes out, his delicate face filled with a nearly tangible pain, I had no idea...  
  
...?  
  
No idea' ...something that he just found out?  
  
What could he have just found out that would involve me...  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh God.  
  
I...I'd better try to say something. Verden, please understand, it's my--  
  
Reis, I'm sorry.  
  
Sorry...for what? I don't understand.  
  
He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he stares at me with a tortured look spread over his features. I failed in protecting you. I failed...  
  
--_I couldn't protect you_--  
  
What...what is he talking about? Excuse me?  
  
As much as I tried, he still got to you. Even with everything I did to prevent that... his tone of voice darkens, sounding even uglier than his soft voice of earlier, I should have been more aware...  
  
He'? Beowulf? I frown, completely unsure of the situation at hand. Why would you need to protect me from Beowulf? It's an almost laughable statement. Beowulf is almost too gentle...  
  
Verden stares at me with wide eyes, though something in those light eyes seem crumpled, destroyed even. You are indeed a true innocent, just like the blessed angels themselves. To let a serpent into your bed, you must be too innocent indeed... he looks down, as if in pain.  
  
So, not only does he know about Beowulf and I, he knows...that? But...we were careful. We only met at night, and he left early enough that the townspeople would not know, would not gossip...  
  
We...we only had a few days left...  
  
H-how...how did you find out...? the words push through uncomfortably from my throat and out past my lips. God, I never thought I'd ever have to say those words.  
  
God...do you support oppressive laws? Is that why...?  
  
I was suffering from a bout of wakefulness last night, so I decided to take a walk around the church to lull myself back to sleep. When I walked past your door, I heard...noises, as each word makes itself known, they sound more and more harsh. The look of disgust flittering across his face only adds to them, it did not take me long to realize that you were not alone.  
  
...Oh.  
  
--_Let's be as selfish as possible_--  
  
Now I see.  
  
There are always consequences.  
  
Always.  
  
--_I would like it if...if you stayed with me tonight_--  
  
My decision. My choice.  
  
--_Though, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to make your fiancé lonely, would you...?_--  
  
My fault.  
  
I was the one who pursued that sort of relationship with Beowulf, so please, confine your punishment to just me, I stare dully into his now-blank face, he only did what I asked of him.  
  
Verden laughs derisively. Does he even have you lying for him now? Would he deprive you of your purity in every way he can think of? Reis, his tone is now urgent, you must fight this. You must persevere. Just like the Holy Saint did against the Lucavi, so must you stand against that serpent's words!  
  
How nice. The one time I don't lie to him, he doesn't believe me. Beowulf is not a serpent, I snap. I could just stand here, hands clenching and posture rigid like a tree, but that doesn't do any good in countering those hateful words. How can he say such things? he is a good person who would never lie to me or hurt me in any way. How can you say those things when you don't even _know_ him?  
  
I don't need to know him, I only need to know of his kind! As a noble and a knight, he is the very worst combination that could possibly exist, and he is so obviously a heathen who would rather die than enter the church walls for worship... he pauses, disgust blossoming on his face as he turns his head to his right, but he would enter to follow his desire. So like an incubus, naturally.  
  
I don't know what an incubus' is, but it doesn't sound very complimentary. I wish you would stop comparing him to demons and lowly creatures.  
  
Verden sighs at this. I have nothing else to compare him to. The mere fact that he has been attempting to subvert you in these ghastly ways only make his status all the more apparent. He is everything I have said so far, and he is many more things that I cannot dirty your innocence with.  
  
Innocence'? So then, you wanted to protect my... innocence' by... I narrow my eyes as a sudden thought comes to me, making sure he and the other knights could not see me more than what you deemed necessary. Hence, that law you started once Cardinal Draclau had left.  
  
You are very astute, just like any true woman should be, he looks at me with imploring eyes, I had to protect you and my white mages by any means possible. I have to preserve that purity. It is God's will, you must understand. To willingly let you fall into the clutches of such lustful creatures would have been a sin to God and the Holy Saint, he closes his eyes, and I have failed Them.  
  
--_I'm sorry to say that Miss Mintopolous is not a woman with the very best of morals_--  
  
If he failed, then he's failed twice so far. But, he didn't seem to be so torn up over exiling Peppermint. But me...  
  
--_It's as I first thought. Reis, you truly are a queen of angels, both in presence and beauty_--  
  
He has always been fixated on me. It sounds egotistical to think of it so bluntly, but...it's true.  
  
--_You know, you look even more lovely than the last time I saw you_--  
  
It couldn't be...for that long...  
  
No. No, it can't be true. That's scary if it is.  
  
But...out of all the catalogers, why was I chosen?  
  
But, I will protect you now. I plan on sending you back to Murond at the end of the week, my eyes widen at this news, fear creeping in from the edges of my mind, I will not allow him to derive his pleasure from one of my wards while I am still breathing.  
  
No.  
  
You are not the Church. I don't belong to you... my body is shaking...how strange. Is this because of anger...or fear? I won't leave my fiancé because of your selfish whim.  
  
He stares at me, momentarily taken aback. He proposed to you. Why... his eyes narrow suddenly as his fingertips scrape the top of his desk, I see. Another trick from the serpent. It is an empty promise, Reis, but of course your nature does not allow you to suspect. Don't worry, he will be dealt with for his indiscretions.  
  
My...nature? What would that be? I may be naive, but...  
  
Do you think me to be a fool? I snarl, completely lost while an overwhelming heat rushes throughout my body. Do you honestly think that I would be taken in if it had been a lie? Or is your idea of a angel a moron who has no control over herself, who follows anyone, not because of her feelings, but because she can't make her own judgements?  
  
How dare you imply that _that_ is the nature of my relationship with Beowulf.  
  
In all the stages of my life, I have always had control over myself. Everything I did...those were all uniquely my actions. My thoughts, my choices, my actions.  
  
I don't regret any of them.  
  
Verden looks stunned. Has it finally gotten through his righteous anger and fatuous beliefs that I might actually have a mind and free will? Honestly, I don't really care right now. How am I supposed to tell Beowulf this news...isn't there something we can do?  
  
There has to be.  
  
Reis, wait, he calls out as I turn and head for the door, Reis, please listen to me.  
  
Why, so I can listen to more words smothered in blind hate? No thank you, I've already had more than my fill of it.  
  
Reis, **stop**.  
  
...? What is this?  
  
I can't move.  
  
Why...why can't I move? My legs, my arms, nothing's working! Why aren't they working? Why...?  
  
Behind me, I can clearly hear the sound of Verden's chair scraping back on the stone floor. I try to turn my head, turn my body, please turn, please move...why can't I turn around while his measured steps are getting closer and closer...  
  
--tmp--  
  
Not even my fingers will move...  
  
--tmp--  
  
How is he able to do this? This is my body, how can he control me like this?!  
  
--tmp--  
  
Get away...stop this...  
  
His hands fall onto my shoulders. A shudder runs through me as I instinctively try to move away, but I'm still frozen in this position. He softly squeezes my shoulders, a sickening imitation of Beowulf's wonderful massages. God, I can't even breathe faster while I'm trapped... I told you to wait, didn't I? I'm sorry to do this, but I could not think of another way to stop you.  
  
I wish I could close my eyes. A spell, right? Strangely enough, my lips are able to move and form words. It must take another sort of spell to control my words.  
  
God, how can someone have so much power over another?  
  
Yes, but you wouldn't stop, a petty justification. How fitting, I am doing all this for your own good. I would do anything to protect you, Reis. I am fully willing to risk your ire in order to do so.  
  
--_I was just trying to protect you from this_--  
  
... Why, Verden? I whisper, an ugly idea edging past conjecture' and into fact'. You didn't really feel anything for Peppermint's situation, so why should I be any different? We are both in love with knights--  
  
She can do whatever she wishes. God doesn't need sinners in heaven. But you... one of his hands start running through my hair, stroking it just like the way Beowulf had this morning, you are no sinner. You are worthy of God's home...you are worth far more than myself.  
  
--_I'm not worth your life.  
  
You're worth more than that_--  
  
...What is this? Stop that, please...  
  
Stop sounding like him...  
  
Is that what you told him? Reis... he wraps his arms around my shoulders, drawing himself fully against my back. I try to squirm away, I'm really trying...why isn't it working? God, please... I should've done more to protect you...  
  
--_I couldn't protect you_--  
  
Quiet! Please, stop it, stop it... Why do you keep saying that? Why is it so important that you do this? It's completely unnecessary, so please...  
  
His hold tightens, his lips brushing against my right ear, just at the bottom of the really thick cartilage. Because I have always been devoted to you. Reis, I truly love you.  
  
--_I love you_--  
  
You can't, my voice is faint, even to my own ears, you don't know anything about me.  
  
Beowulf, on the other hand, knows everything about me. He doesn't think of me as an angel, an easily-controlled idiot. He doesn't place unwanted expectations on my character. Even though I don't like it when he makes me promise things that go against what I want, he would never do something like this to me.  
  
I know that he really loves me.  
  
You're not Beowulf, so stop sounding like him. Stop touching me like he would.  
  
Please, just stop.  
  
...Please?  
  
He's pressing himself against me even more. I don't struggle. I can't struggle. I could scream, I could shout, but he'd probably just silence me somehow and then what? It's better to still have my voice in use, so that I can distract him from...from whatever he's planning. Other than that...I'm pathetically helpless.  
  
My body is my own. I've always had that, no matter what's changed with it.  
  
My body has always been my own, even when I died.  
  
Having no control...it's worse than death.  
  
You're scared, he states, his voice tinted with shock, why? Do you believe my intentions to be like his? I just wanted you to listen to me, to understand me...  
  
I understand perfectly. I'm not scared.  
  
Frightened for my life, yes. Afraid that he's going to do something to me, yes.  
  
Scared...yes, but I won't let him know. I'd rather die than let him know.  
  
Even if he controls my body, he can't control me. There's no way he could, not even with magic!  
  
My mind is my own.  
  
You say that, but you're whimpering, he murmurs, doubt coloring his words, it's hard to believe you when your actions betray you.  
  
--_It's hard to believe that when you pushed me away and stared at me as if I were--_  
  
I burst out in anger, in frustration, in fear. You say you're nothing like Beowulf, but in reality you sound exactly like him!  
  
He releases me, stumbling backwards. I try to move forward, a desperate wish to get away...I can move again! I run towards the door, turning to him only when I have my hand on the doorknob and the door begins to open. But believe me, he's a much, much better man than you could ever hope to be, claws of cruel delight grasp me when his face begins to express his pain.  
  
He'll never feel enough to match what he just did to me.  
  
I smile tightly. It feels like a grimace. For instance, Beowulf has never physically or magically forced me to do anything for him. He respects me enough to ask me. Do you think God will let you in heaven for forcing women to do things just because you will it so?  
  
Buremonda stands there, looking completely devastated. Reis...I don't...  
  
Slowly, I shake my head. I don't think so, either.  
  
I close the door behind me and make my way to my room. I'd like a bath right now. I feel dirty.  
  
I wish I could do the same for my memory.  
  
-----  
  
I don't want to go back.  
  
I don't want to tell Beowulf that I'm being forced to go back.  
  
I want everything to be fine again. I don't want to argue with Beowulf, I don't want to be controlled by Buremonda, I don't want to hear their voices meld into one in my mind over and over and over again...  
  
God...Beowulf, help me. Help me convince me that you don't really sound like him, it's just my overactive imagination. I...I don't like what it could mean otherwise...  
  
--tmptmptmp--  
  
I look up from my lap just as Beowulf opens the door. He's smiling, from what I can tell, and in a reasonably good mood. He walks over to the bed after quietly closing the door, sitting next to me and kissing me on the cheek in one fell swoop. Good evening, love.  
  
--_Reis, I truly love you_--  
  
I look down. Good evening, Beowulf.  
  
Reis? Is something wrong? If it's about this morning, I'm sorry, but... he puts his arm around me and  
  
--_I should've done more to protect you..._--  
  
I flinch away, looking up and appreciating that I can make that movement.  
  
But this is Beowulf.  
  
He looks at me, and in the night-covered room I can only see a glimmer of pain in his dark eyes. Are you that mad at me? Beowulf whispers, sounding hurt.  
  
Buremonda...why is he still affecting me? Isn't it over already?  
  
No, I just... well, he has to know sometime... Priest Buremonda...he knows about us and, ah...he's sending me back to Murond at the end of the week.  
  
Even with all the things I've had to tell him, it doesn't get any easier to talk about them. I've only learned to relay them to him more quickly. After all, a crossbow bolt through the ear is a faster way to kill than hacking away...hm, that's a bit morbid.  
  
What? How did he find out? How odd. He sounds fairly calm.  
  
He said he had been walking past this room last night, I murmur, feeling disturbed, but I don't remember hearing his footsteps. I would've heard them at any time, unless I was distracted...  
  
Oh, wonderful.  
  
Beowulf makes a fairly strangled noise a moment later. I'll assume that means he came up with the same conclusion. Oh, God, that... he pauses, then sighs, no, never mind. The end of the week...weren't we...  
  
I mumble.  
  
Yes, we were going to stop sleeping together at the end of this week. Out of all the days Buremonda could've found out, he had to find out now. Now. God, why now?  
  
Why did he have to act like that? Like I was his possession, his property...  
  
--_Yeah, Priest Buremonda's pet_--  
  
Is that...is that what those white mages meant? All they could do was giggle about it...  
  
...I see, he reaches out for me, but doesn't pull me in like he normally does. I must've really hurt him for a reaction like that. Leaning against his chest, I listen to his heartbeat while he wraps his arms around me, do you have an idea about what to do now, Reis?  
  
I close my eyes.   
  
He rests his chin on the top of my head. Neither do I. Let's just sleep on it and think of a plan in the morning, okay?  
  
Nodding, I pull away from him and lie down on the bed, waiting for him to join me after he pulls off his boots. He does this routine quickly enough and settles down beside me, pulling me to him while tugging the blanket out from under us. Once everything's sorted out, he kisses me on the forehead. By the way... he starts.  
  
What is it? I don't open my eyes, but I do snuggle up to him a bit more.  
  
hm? goodnight, Reis.  
  
I smile wanly. Good night, Beowulf.  
  
His arms tighten around me. We'll think of something for sure, love.  
  
I know, these are truthful words. We have to think of something. There's no other solution. I won't leave Beowulf because of someone like _him_. Even if I am a ward of the Church, there has to be a solution. There has to be a way out of this situation.  
  
Am I clinging to my only scrap of happiness, or fighting for the one I love?  
  
Is it alright if it's both?

-End to chapter 27-

I'm sorry that this update is late; I had something of a mini Hell Week last week. As of yesterday (5/3), my birthday rolled around and hit me. Twenty...ah, it still makes me feel old to think that. And just like my teenage years, this story is ending...how apropos.  
  
Anyway, Verden Buremonda: creepy priest extrodinaire, a truly misguided man, or intolerant jerk? You decide, although I already know what I'm going to run with...  
  
-What is an incubus, you may ask? They're the male version of a succubus (uh, think Morrigan from Darkstalkers and way too many Vs. games to name), and are particularly known for appearing at a young woman's bed, particularly nuns, and raping them. Yeah, Reis doesn't need to know that.  
  
Reviewers (and their very short replies)!  
  
Ello, Luna. As far as swimming goes...well, I don't know how to swim. I'm from a beach town and I don't know how to swim. ;; Anyway, I think that the dissenting knights--most of the LHK--do have a valid point. I mean, Beowulf and Reis were caught. And if the LHK knew the full story...well, it makes Reis look a lot worse because it was her decision that started it. Man, her image has really flip-flopped to them...  
The Awakening'? Never read it. A friend of mine is reading Salem's Lot', how odd. Well, good luck with your report!  
Wonder what you'll come up with for this summary...  
  
Yo, MavGunloc. Geez, since we talk regularly, should I really be replying to this review? =P All I want to say is that I'm really happy to be validated on the whole Beowulf issue with guy readers. I don't think that he was being drastic; I think for him to be drastic would be to compromise his job for Reis' sake and threaten his men, or something. I do like writing out their disagreements, though, because their mutual unwillingness to really argue and their tendency to at least understand each other's viewpoints, they have nice, mature discussions. More couples in real life should learn this skill...  
  
You tell em, Mavina! Now, I can't wait to see what you'll say about Verden...  
  
Hey, The Burning Misery! So, what is the definition of that'?  
Yes, that's the myth. Is my symbolism easier to figure out for that chapter?  
Thank you about your comments regarding the writing style...heh, I don't care about my sentence flashbacks. I keep thinking they're a bit clunky.  
Well, unfortunately there's no room in the story for it to start spicing up' now. Whoops. Ah, pacing, the subtle demon...  
Downtown Brea's stores are good, I guess. I mean, the Tower Records is nice. The mall doesn't completely suck because I have friends who work there. The library...well, I've never been to it. Sorry.  
Actually, I didn't know the site had glitched up...I mean, that's pretty common, isn't it? But either way, I had no plans to post up this chapter last week after I looked at my school itineraries.  
  
Thank you for reading! Well, this story's ending soon...sorry. Or maybe you're excited about it, I don't know. I've got another FFT project (shorter, a lot shorter!) coming up, and then...who knows?  
  
Looking at my stats page, I can't help but wonder if Kamui Archetype' is a reader of this fanfic, or of my FoR stuff. I'm just kind of wondering what archetype Kamui falls under, that's all.  
  
Chapter 28: Sympathetique (_Fenio Consonance_): Do you think I'm a good person now, Reis?


	31. 28: Sympathetique

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 28: Sympathetique (_Fenio Consonance_)  
  
_You're so beautiful.  
  
I don't say anything, only giggling a little as his lips meander around my shoulder blades, light little kisses making me squirm in a fluttery happiness. One of his arms is around my waist, holding me in an attempt to still my involuntary twists and jerks. I can't help it; ever since he found out I was ticklish in that area, it's become a favorite place for him to tease me. He's very good at that, and it's very unfair. He's not very ticklish at all, and he really enjoys flaunting that.  
  
Ah, what a cruel world...  
  
After a firm kiss to my nape, his lips pull away from me. But I liked that... You're perfect. Flawless...  
  
What does he mean? If he's talking about my body, he's completely wrong. Turning so that I'm laying on my back, I look over at him. Can you really say that? I ask, my voice hushed in the still of the night.  
  
His hand travels over my abdomen until his fingers happen upon the horizontal scar just below my ribcage, tracing lightly over the scarred skin. Do you think it's ugly?  
  
...Well, it really doesn't look all that attractive, having such a scar laid out on my skin like that. I don't think I would've minded if it had been from a monster, but its perfect line reveals it as truly a human's doing. After all, humans try their best to perfect warfare, creating weapons designed to inflict a perfect wound. Of course, as a hunter, I once used those weapons for that exact purpose, although the reasons were completely different.  
  
Does that make it more noble, though?  
  
I don't like it, I whisper. It just proves that my existence now was not supposed to be, what do you think?  
  
Affectionally, he kisses my cheek. I don't think it's that bad, he kisses my jaw, then my neck, lingering at the latter, I don't like the meaning behind it, but by itself it looks...unique.  
  
I can't help the shallow quality of my breathing as I bare more of my neck to him. I'm not a collector's item like the traveling vendors like to sell.  
  
he mumbles into the crook of my neck, the hand at my scar slowly drifting upwards, you can't deny that.  
  
Well...and I'm not going to either as long as you keep doing that... Either way, it's not flawless, somehow, I'm able to grasp that point and hold on for dear life.  
  
He lifts himself so that his body is over mine, his forearms on either side of my head. I like the heaviness'--though he isn't really--of his body on mine. It's comforting. I was talking about all of you, not just your body, his lips press against mine in a deceptively simple kiss, and when he pulls away I can see the familiar curve of a smile with the small amount of silver light streaming into the room, it's just that you're too biased to see that.  
  
_I'm_ biased, is that so? Beowulf, I think you're more biased than I am.  
  
He sounds genuinely shocked...which is sort of startling. I thought he was just making a joke... No, well...I think you're amazingly beautiful and all-around just incredible to behold...but I'm not biased, the moonlight accentuates a flash of his teeth as he quickly grins, I'm hurt that you'd think that way, love.  
  
...Oh, is that so? I see. Then, I hope you'll accept my apology, I smile as I raise my arms, running my hands along his back and neck, letting my fingertips drag up and down through his hair. He always likes that, after all, you're so wonderfully kind and a very admirable man, so I really shouldn't doubt you... lifting my head up, I let my lips caress the lower part of his ear, but I'm definitely not biased.  
  
When I pull away, I'm treated to another moonlight-touched grin. You see, we understand each other perfectly--or, at least we try. That's why we'll always be together, he begins to randomly place kisses all over my face, and I can do is smile and make sure that each part of my face is thoroughly treated, didn't I say it was fate?_  
  
--_It must've been fate that we met_--  
  
Yes, yes he did. I've always remembered those words...the first words in such a long time that truly affected me. Those words were the first that made me think that Sir Beowulf Kadmus was very strange and...interesting.  
  
I believe in those words. There have been been many words that he's said that I've felt were exaggerations or just strange affectations, like a few of the words that accompany his not-so-Lionel accent. I can't place that well-traveled accent. I can't place where those overwhelming words bubble up from. All I can place are the effects of that voice, those words on my being, and how much I appreciate them.  
  
I sometimes have my doubts, but I really do appreciate him: who he is, what he is to me, everything. There's just so much...  
  
I'm not willing to give that up. That's an unforgivable crime to make me do so. I'm innately selfish and more than willing to prove it. I won't leave him.  
  
But I don't know what to do now.  
  
Slowly disentangling myself from Beowulf's arms, I pull myself into a sitting position as he mutters something and scrunches himself deeper into sleep. For a knight, he really doesn't become instantly alert when something happens. In Murond, the knights are trained to be battle-ready at a moment's notice. Maybe this peaceful slumber is something he's adjusted to while with me...but probably not. I don't think I'm the sort of person that can inspire someone to change, even if it's just their sleeping habits.  
  
I'm the one that's always changing, because Beowulf is inspirational that way.  
  
I lean against the headboard and the wall behind it, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It's still mostly dark...it's probably almost six. I can't believe I was able to go to sleep, but now I feel like it wasn't worth it at all. I'm still tired, I'm still jittery, I'm still unable to think properly.  
  
I'm still scared.  
  
It's just...it's not fair. Well, it probably is, but my mind can't see it any other way. All I can see it as is just a cruel tactic, even with the words supporting that action.  
  
--_But, I will protect you now. I plan on sending you back to Murond at the end of the week_--  
  
It...scares me. Not just the fact that I could be separated from Beowulf, but...  
  
--_Because I have always been devoted to you. Reis, I truly love you_--  
  
That scares me a lot.  
  
If it was just righteous anger aimed at me for breaking a rule, I could understand. That's what Peppermint had gotten, after all. It'd hurt, but it would be the consequence of my actions, and somewhere deep down I can understand that. But to say he loves me...no. That makes everything different. It's just out of a selfish desire.  
  
If I can't have you, no one can' ...right?  
  
Beowulf stirs, turning onto his side and reaching out for me, only to throw his arm over my legs. He freezes for a second, then slowly opens his eyes. he says after noting my position.  
  
Good morning, really?  
  
He shakes his head at this while pulling himself into a sitting position as well. I'm not so sure about that, frowning slightly, he glances at me before leaning back, but, let's make it a good morning. Let's start thinking.  
  
It's easy to say that, isn't it? hm, I should try to sound more enthusiastic...  
  
he's obviously pleased, now, what's our goal?  
  
I look at him. Doesn't he know? Excuse me?  
  
He chuckles. Defining a goal is a good way to start a planning session, I shrug at this. I wouldn't know...though I guess it makes sense, so, what's our goal?  
  
I look down and smooth out the wrinkles in my clothes, adjusting my blouse and the dress over it idly. What is our goal? Is it to just stay together? Or stay together in Lionel? Isn't that asking for too much?  
  
How much can we truly expect now? Do we have any hidden power that would enable us to do what we wish?  
  
...Well, obviously not.  
  
I would be happy anywhere, as long as I was with Beowulf. It's definitely a naive thing to put my trust in, but right now it seems fine. Because I could lose him, it seems alright...  
  
Beowulf is giving me an expectant look when I focus on him again. Seeing that, I'm sure that he already has a goal in mind. Maybe as a leader, he feels obligated to listen to other people first before presenting his own ideas. Or maybe it's just his innate fairness. Our goal is to stay together. Whether or not we're in Lionel is an extraneous detail right now.  
  
Right, exactly, he smiles as he takes my hand in his, our fingers automatically entwining together, in fact, it's probably safe to assume that we couldn't stay in this town, at least.  
  
Hm, but... 'At least'? But you have to stay in Lionel.  
  
He hesitates, something confusing flickering in his eyes. Yes, that's true...  
  
...? Do you already have a plan, Beowulf?  
  
What? No, no, nothing really, I'm wary...there's something he's thinking of, that's for sure. Hn, anyway, what makes this a bit more difficult is that you're a ward of the Church as well as an employee.  
  
Not of my own choice. Yes, that's true. At least, until I'm married, that's how the law goes for women, anyway. When a man turns into an adult--the age tends to change every few years, but I believe they're using the age of inheritance for now. That's around fifteen or sixteen, I think.  
  
But of course, a sixteen-year-old man can take care of himself more than a twenty-one-year-old woman...the Church really believes in equality, doesn't it?  
  
And if we could do that, we wouldn't be worrying in the first place, Beowulf looks distinctly annoyed now, of course, the war will end before Buremonda will ever willingly grant us a marriage ceremony.  
  
I sigh. Of course. I see...  
  
Don't worry, he says warmly, squeezing my hand and running his thumb over the ridges of my knuckles, there are other ideas, right?  
  
Beowulf, do you have one in mind? There are too many things to consider that it's very hard to think of something. Beowulf needs to stay in this town for his job. There's just no other way around it. Even if he could transfer himself to another place in this region...first of all, I couldn't ask him to do that, and it would take too long anyway. I don't know how fast paperwork can be sent around, but I'm sure it's longer than the couple of days I have left.  
  
Once again, he looks hesitant. Yes, I do. I could just send a complaint to Murond, alleging misconduct on Buremonda's part, I stare at him, the abuse of power regarding his treatment of this situation, as well as dictating control over the knights with the whole fraternization deal, oh, I think I understand, but there's a couple problems with that.  
  
It would take too long, and... I frown, wouldn't that start something between the knights and the priests?  
  
--_And knights...oh, knights and priests just don't get along, period. That's just how it is_--  
  
He nods. The Church is supported by centuries of internal bickering. The knights resent the power that the priests hold over them, and the priests think that the knights owe them for bringing them closer to God, a slightly amused sort of smile crosses his face, or something like that. I don't really care.  
  
Hm, I see. And somehow they maintain a status quo that way... But you've never liked Priest Buremonda, I murmur.  
  
--_Reis is...I won't use Reis in this petty little thing with Buremonda_--  
  
That's what he said, that day that I was made to bring those books to the barracks, but I've never really understood why they started disliking each other. At least, not why Beowulf started to dislike Buremonda.  
  
--_I know why Sir Kadmus wouldn't like Priest Buremonda. When Priest Buremonda first made the announcement, he expected Sir Kadmus to make the same declaration to the knights. But Sir Kadmus said that his job wasn't to tell the knights who they could date. Priest Buremonda then insinuated that Sir Kadmus' refusal secretly meant that he had a secret girlfriend somewhere_--  
  
...Except for that. Well, I don't know why, but I have a feeling that Beowulf hasn't liked Buremonda for a very long time now.  
  
Hm? Well, he's only kind to women and his superiors, he mentions in an offhand tone, casually gazing into my eyes...why is he doing that? It makes me feel uncomfortable...  
  
--_Because I have always been devoted to you. Reis, I truly love you_--  
  
My tone comes out more harshly than I would've liked, but it does its purpose of breaking Beowulf's stare.  
  
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Buremonda's words, his feelings...they don't matter.  
  
If they did, that would be worse.  
  
Beowulf mutters, anyway, why were you asking? It's not very important.  
  
That's true. No reason, really. I was just curious, it's my turn to comfortingly squeeze his hand, was there anything else that wouldn't have worked with your plan?  
  
He makes a face. That makes me feel so much better about it, love, smiling now, he shakes his head, there's a bigger chance of the complaint not going through at all, or for a cover-up...and that'd affect you. And even if it did go through and the Church went into a huge uproar over it...well, I'd hate to prove everyone right in the first place...not like I wouldn't do it for you anyway.  
  
Prove everyone right'...?  
  
--_It could reverberate throughout all of Lionel, even to the ranks in Murond...then what? Most of the priests barely tolerate us as is_--  
  
Oh. Right. I see.  
  
Don't worry...hm, deja vu. Well, we still have plenty of time, he looks a little less sure than before, but he still smiles at me anyway, we'll think of something.  
  
Even at this time, he can still say that...I really appreciate that. His smile may be dimmer, but it's still there. This situation is looking more and more hopeless, but he can still say that we have time, and that we'll think of something...they're just words, but he wields them so well. We don't naturally have the same sort of attitude carrying us forward, but...I feel I can depend on him  
  
I wish he could depend on me, too. As it is, I'm struggling to depend on myself and I'm not succeeding.  
  
There's a question looming before us. What can we do?' It's there, getting larger and more ominous with each passing moment. But even with that, I'm not feeling so bad right now. I don't know if we can do anything, but maybe...  
  
We just have to keep going until the very end. That's all there is now.  
  
Slowly, I bring up our entwined hands to my lips, gently kissing the back of his hand. When I pull away, I can't help but smile at the curious look stamped on his face. Thank you for everything, if I made a list, it would be too long. Saying everything' is such a lazy approach, but it'll work for now.  
  
Well, ah... the gray light is leaking in the room at a fast enough pace that I can see the red of his eyes, as well as the darkening of his cheeks, I haven't really done anything.  
  
Haven't you? He blinks at this and I can't help but giggle, tucking back a lock of hair with my left hand. I'm happy.  
  
Silly, right? At a time like this...  
  
He leans in closer, our shoulders now touching. Even now?  
  
Especially now, a strange thing to say now, but it feels right.  
  
Mimicking my earlier action, he brings our hands up to his face, his lips soft against the back of my hand. Reis, you're really strange, you know that? But right now, I feel the same way you do.  
  
I tilt my head. Didn't he just call himself strange by association?   
  
Yes, really, he grins momentarily, but his somber outlook soon takes over the expression on his face, shouldn't we be taking this more seriously? As much as I want to, we still can't take his threat lightly.  
  
I know. That's why it's even more important, before... how do I say this? Who knows what the future will hold... before whatever happens...happens.  
  
I'm not going to keep making the same mistakes over and over. Haven't I gone this far already?  
  
He nods at this, a look of understanding blossoming on his face. That's a good point, he simply says, lowering our entwined hands from between our faces and reaching out and cupping my face in his unoccupied hand, I'm going to promise you this, though: I'll do whatever it takes for us to stay together.  
  
...  
  
So, he'll take all the burden...then, what's left for me to do?  
  
That makes me feel as if...as if I were the true burden.  
  
I don't like that, ah, that's too blunt... I appreciate the sentiment, but it makes me feel useless...I really resent it when you tell me not to do something, or that you'll take care of it... I'm groping for phrases, for the exact feelings I feel, but I don't think we can really be reconciled on this issue.  
  
It's practically impossible to change someone's beliefs by mere words, isn't it?  
  
Beowulf doesn't say anything, though he actually looks more thoughtful than anything else. After a moment he sighs and starts stroking his thumb over my cheekbone. I think he's trying to soften me up for whatever he's going to say next. I have a feeling, he says slowly, strangely looking away from my face, that we'll be fighting each other over that issue for the rest of our lives.  
  
Well...hm. I whisper.  
  
It's not really a matter of one of us not understanding the other, I don't think. He's fully aware that I don't like it, and I'm fully aware that he won't stop just because I don't like it. In fact, I'd like to think that we've come to a sort of understanding because of it.  
  
Of course, we'll probably annoy each other for the rest of our lives over that one issue, but it could be worse.  
  
Our eyes happen to meet and slowly, oh so slowly, we begin to smile.  
  
--knoknoknok--  
  
A jolt crashes through me at the knocking at my door. No one ever comes here, so why...who...  
  
No. It isn't worth the energy to fool myself into asking those sort of questions.  
  
This...this isn't going to turn out anywhere approaching well', so soon after yesterday...  
  
Beowulf pulls away from me, disentangling himself from the blanket and heading towards the door. Silently I follow after him, dread rising in my chest. We stand next to each other, right in front of the door.  
  
Maybe...  
  
--knoknoknok--  
  
...I guess not.  
  
After a long, silent glance at each other, he reaches for the doorknob. It twists easily, and with a creaking that exacerbates the nervous twists and turns inside my stomach, the door is easily pulled free from its holding position.  
  
And there is Buremonda.  
  
For a long, uncomfortable moment, we all stare forward. I don't know how Beowulf feels, but I feel vastly disturbed when Buremonda blankly lays his light blue eyes on me, seemingly frozen until he focuses on Beowulf. That's when the dark red splotches on his face--from the cold weather, I assume--darken even further, and something like a dark fury trembles within his light eyes.  
  
If Buremonda looked like an angel before, then for sure he's regained his humanity.  
  
What are you doing here, he enunciates slowly, hands balled up into fists at his sides, in the white mage corridor, inside an inhabited room, at half past six in the morning?  
  
That is...very detailed. I've never seen him angry, and so it really...it's really startling. Not scary, though, not at all.  
  
--_I told you to wait, didn't I?_--  
  
I think his love is scarier than his anger.  
  
I'm visiting my fiancé, Beowulf answers, his tone calm, what are you doing here at this time in the morning?  
  
For a second, Buremonda glances at me, his eyes softening. I freeze, gritting my teeth behind thinned lips, and his attention goes back to Beowulf. I don't see why I should have to answer to you, the words are harsh to my ears, but I resist covering them up.  
  
It's hard not to.  
  
Beside me, Beowulf shifts slightly. Of course not, I don't know how he can keep that calm tone when Buremonda is so very close to spitting invectives at him, but it's admirable, but I'm sure Reis would like to know, wouldn't you, love?  
  
I start nodding, but just as I open my mouth to verbally agree, Buremonda's glare turns into something more vicious...which is really surprising. Ah, I shouldn't be making light of this... Don't be so familiar with her!  
  
It's a little late for that, Beowulf mutters, and by the black look now dominating Buremonda's face, I can see that I wasn't the only one who heard that.  
  
I would also like to know what you're doing here, Priest Buremonda, I suggest, trying vainly to diffuse the situation. I don't know what he could do if he was sufficiently angry enough--and really, it looks like he's passed that threshold a while ago--but even though Beowulf is capable of fending for himself...it's probably best to keep the situation from heading that way.  
  
Buremonda takes several deep breaths before looking at me. They seemed to have worked, as his color is returning. I only wished to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had worried extensively over how you felt, and I was willing to see if there was some way you could stay here... he glares at Beowulf for a brief moment before returning his attention to me, but I see now that there is no other way to protect you than to send you back.  
  
You really don't know her at all, do you? The incredulous tone in Beowulf's voice is evident.  
  
Excuse me? Blue eyes slide from focusing on me to giving Beowulf a dark look. Contrary to the beliefs of knights such as yourself, knowing' someone does not just refer to the physical connotation of the word.  
  
You know...that's really irritating me. Perhaps you shouldn't talk about things that you don't know about, Priest Buremonda.  
  
He looks at me, and for a second I wish I could take back my last words. It's just...those eyes...they're like delicate azure glass, except...smashed onto the ground, the shards littering the area and more than willing to pierce anyone foolish enough to not watch their step.  
  
Is that my fault...or was that something I've never noticed until now?  
  
Re...Miss Dular, I know that my actions were reprehensible, but please... he reaches out toward me--  
  
--_I told you to wait, didn't I?_--  
  
No.  
  
--_I'm sorry to do this, but I could not think of another way to stop you_--  
  
Stay away...  
  
--_Reis, I truly love you_--  
  
I jerk back, wanting, needing to get away there's a hand on my back whose hand is it breathe...breathe...calm down. Everything's fine. I'm not there. Everything's fine. Beowulf's with me.  
  
Everything's fine.  
  
I look up at Beowulf, trying not to lean against his hand too much...it wouldn't do to prove Buremonda's words right, after all. Beowulf is...that is...  
  
I've never seen him so angry before.  
  
It isn't just the expression on his face, or his bearing, or anything like that. His face is drawn up more tightly than usual, and he's aiming a particularly painful-looking glare at Buremonda. But it isn't just that. The Beowulf I know is a predominately cheerful and confident person. Of course, that's not to say that he doesn't have his own pain, those moments where I feel like I'm staring at a different person entirely. But...he's really a person I can admire.  
  
He really looks...feels different right now.  
  
Even Buremonda seems taken aback...or it could've just been a delayed look from my...my trying to get away from him. He keeps glancing back and forth between us, his dominant expression now almost unreadable. Though, in his eyes...in his eyes, the edges of some unknown fear are visible.  
  
Is it bad that I'm enjoying that?  
  
You know, we were talking before you decided to interrupt, Beowulf starts in an odd tone. It's odd because...it's slightly cheerful, you see, all I wanted to do before was just to stay with Reis. But now, I think it's better to just get her away from you.  
  
...Not that I don't appreciate it, but...this is sudden.  
  
You can't do that! Buremonda exclaims, more shocked than angry. She has nothing to do with you! If you even dare take her away from this church, I will see to it that you will be charged for every transgression you have committed upon her, upon the Church as a whole!  
  
Beowulf doesn't reply quickly, and I look up at him, worried that...maybe we've gone over our heads here. As much as I'd like to think it possible, we can't go up against the Church. And Buremonda is so eager to hurt Beowulf...  
  
No. No matter what happens...  
  
A small twitch of Beowulf's lips makes them form into something like a smile. After you, Buremonda.  
  
It's silent now. The air feels thick with tension, so thick and suppressing that it feels useless to even try to talk. Why bother?  
  
We're all trapped anyway, and none of us will pry ourselves out of these wholly negative feelings.  
  
You will not have her.  
  
Excuse me. I'm not a possession.  
  
You're just being used. Please, listen--  
  
'Used'? For what?  
  
You know what, you lecherous--  
  
I'm not a pervert, either.  
  
And you don't try very hard to deny it, I see.  
  
  
  
I've never needed to prove or deny anything to you.  
  
Ah, the very same way those like you use, claiming that they are above authority.  
  
You're not behind a pulpit. Or do you just claim more power there? Do you quiet your congregation by announcing that you'll smite all those that do not listen to your word?  
  
How _dare_ you--  
  
Just leave, please.  
  
It doesn't mean that I take any pleasure from it. It's all so tiring.  
  
It's all so disgusting.  
  
Buremonda takes one look at my face and stalks off, muttering about ending whatever foolish plan that wicked knight' has. I don't care. I'm sick of him right now. I'm sick of the horrible words he drags with him, the fear he coaxes in me, I can't...  
  
I'm sick of it all.  
  
Do you want me to leave you alone too? Beowulf asks, turning towards me. Slowly exhaling, I simply shake my head. With that anger, being caught in the loop of other people's anger, I can't help but feel exhausted. Not even a good exhaustion, either...I feel like dropping and folding my full height into a crumpled little ball. That'd be safe right now.  
  
It's so tiresome, being a human and being crushed by these heavy feelings.  
  
Reis...I've changed my mind about the goal, he continues, walking over to the bed and sitting on it, leaning forward with his forearms along his thighs, I have a new plan.  
  
I nod. Right now, it's all I can do.  
  
It's sooner than we planned, but do you want to get married the day after tomorrow? I glance at him, unable to bring up a single reason for or against this idea. Do you?  
  
it's hard, but I manage to take a few steps towards him, why so soon?  
  
He smiles. It looks a bit withered. Because I love you?  
  
I stare at him dully.   
  
Right, right, just trying to lighten the mood... he sighs, because as soon as we get married, you lose your ward' status and Buremonda won't be able to do anything to you.  
  
I look away. He would never perform the ceremony, though.  
  
And that's why we're be going to Zaland to get married, love, his smile looks a bit more lively now, and I can't help but feel a little better.  
  
But...it's sudden. That's not bad at all, but... When did you think of this idea?  
  
He looks at me, and everything seems to slow down. There's a troubled expression creasing his normally youthful face, eyes dark and deep and seeped in worry. That's the sad part, actually.  
  
I'm used to that look.  
  
I'm still, even as he reaches out and grasps my hands in his, thumbs roaming up and down the backs of my hands. Reis, what exactly did Buremonda do to you?  
  
--_Reis, **stop**_****--  
  
It seems like such a mundane little thing when logically thought out. He stopped me with magic, touched me and said he loved me. That's all.  
  
But to be completely at someone else's mercy, unable to move but fully able to feel as unseen hands touch, as a voice floats from behind and there is no way to turn around and connect those words with a person, no way at all...  
  
There is nothing I can do. I can't break free from those hands, that voice...  
  
I can't undo these memories.  
  
That's the worst part. That's the absolute worst part. Even if Beowulf says comforting words, even if Buremonda was brought to justice...I still have the experience stamped onto my very being.  
  
It's too late.  
  
It's okay, it's alright, you don't have to tell me anything... these words are being whispered into my ear, accentuated with the pleasantly empty feeling of fingers stroking through my hair. Oh, I see, I'm on his lap. Strange, I don't know how I got here. I must've been  
  
_trapped_  
  
thinking too hard. Talking in my mind', as Beowulf would put it.  
  
I pull away slightly, just enough so that I can look at his face instead of talking to his chest. It's fine. Sorry, I... what? I don't even know what I'm saying right now, I just don't want to worry him like I usually do, I'm sorry.  
  
Ah, I'm familiar with that new look on his face too. He's very not convinced. Are you sure you're fine? He...ah, he didn't hurt you too much, did he?  
  
What...what is he getting at? I'm physically fine, I clarify, trying to puzzle my way through whatever he's talking about.  
  
He relaxes at this, though now there's a flicker of confusion in his eyes. That's good, the words are wrapped in a cautious tone, you've just been acting strangely, and I...well, I'd really feel better if you stayed in Zaland for awhile. It's not far away enough from him, but it'll do.  
  
What's in Zaland that would help? I'm confused. I mean, Buremonda can go to Zaland just as easily as we can.  
  
I'm thinking of asking Head Diplomat Koizumi to let you stay at his house while I take care of some things here, oh, that would be Miss Chieko's father, right? But...why? At my questioning gaze, he smiles a little and continues stroking my hair, I'm not going to take any chances with Buremonda's sphere of influence, even if you won't be a ward of the Church after the wedding. I'm sure the Church would prefer not to go so far as to disrupt their relationship with the Eastern Lands for the sake of one employee.  
  
I suppose so, but...this is starting to sound a little messy. How do you know that...Head Diplomat Koizumi will agree?  
  
Because the people of the Eastern Lands could teach Ivalice a thing or three about the concept of honor, is that really an answer? I'm sure that's true, but... I've helped him a lot throughout the years, and not just with Miss Koizumi's arrival. I'd like to think that he'd definitely agree, if not out of friendship, then because of some level of respect.  
  
That's...I see. What will you be doing while I'm in Zaland?  
  
He smiles. For some reason, I don't like that. I'm going to wait until the cardinal arrives, then I'm going to quit.  
  
...What? ...Why would you do that?  
  
Because he's my superior, so I have to send my request to him, after one look at my face, his own loses the good humor of earlier, I don't like certain aspects of my job, and once he returns, I'll have to go back to performing them again.  
  
I shift on his lap, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.  
  
--_I can't tell you about this_--  
  
But I'm so close to finding out.  
  
Beowulf...I know you don't want me to ask, I start in a soft tone of voice, but it really worries me.  
  
He shakes his head. Reis, I'd rather not get into this.  
  
Ignorance is bliss' is usually a correct saying, I know. I really understand that. But it's not fair...it's really not fair for only him to suffer in silence.  
  
Ignorance may be bliss, but it hurts more to not know.  
  
Gently, I smile. I want to share your burden.  
  
Please, let's suffer together. At least then...neither of us would be alone.  
  
A Temple Knight protects the Church by killing heretics, he says suddenly, startling me slightly at this bold admission. Well, this is something I already knew.  
  
--_It's not so bad now, since I'm not being sent to hunt down heretics while Examiner Draclau is out in the war_--  
  
I remember you telling me that, is there something I'm not getting here? you also said you didn't like the fact that you had to kill people because they held different ideologies.  
  
He sighs at this. My first victim was a sixty-two-year-old man. His name was Tellah Belane, and he was a powerful mage who lived in Warjilis, that name...would he be related to the songstress Miss Belane? Probably...she was from Warjilis... he claimed that there was a race of people on the moon who were superior to humans, and that one could travel to the moon via a creature called a whale'. He was not announcing this at the town square or on the docks, he would only tell these stories once sufficiently drunk.  
  
The first night I arrived in Warjilis, he was waiting for me. The dossiers really underestimated his magic, so I escaped. The next night, I arrived at his home and observed that he was asleep, then I drained him of his life energy. He may have been powerful, but he was still old, so it only took two tries. To this day, everyone believes that he died of old age, he looks away from me, his eyes narrowing, it was a successful mission. Since then, I've consistently maintained a record of success, I can only stare back as his gaze meets mine, his eyes redder than I've ever remembered them to be, now, do you really want to share the burden that I have to live with? Do... he hesitates, as if he were thinking or remembering something, do you think I'm a good person now?  
  
I didn't realize it was...quite like that. I thought the people he went after were...well, I never really thought about it. Anything but innocents, at least. What sort of well-established religion would advocate the murder of elderly men, after all?  
  
I suppose I really am naive.  
  
Death is such an easy thing to talk about in Ivalice. Of course it is. People die every day, every minute, from war and famine and the Black Plague and being an unprepared traveler and wandering into a monster or bandit's den. There are so many ways to die, it's a wonder that the cited life expectancy is at sixty. Why do we press on with our lives, if there is only death waiting for us in the end?  
  
--_Aren't you a pretty girl?_--  
  
Death itself isn't so bad. It's the anxiety, the knowledge that one day we will not exist...that's what really hurts. Those who are saved...what are they really saved from? Temporary reprieves are just that.  
  
But to die because you thought of something that is considered different' ...that's horrible. It's completely unnecessary. And to die by another's hand, someone who is just carrying out their orders because of your own thoughts...it's disgusting!  
  
With all that, could anyone truly care about the assassin's own feelings?  
  
It's one of the ultimate burdens in life to have the experience of killing something. As a hunter, all I can do is make sure that the monster's end is as swift as possible. I really respect monsters, even moreso now that I am one. But if I had the opportunity...I would hunt again. It's a cold comfort, but it's probably better to die quickly at the hand of someone who truly cares, rather than sloppily from someone who views lives as merchandise, something to use and sell as one wishes.  
  
--_Hm...but you know, animals and humans are different_--  
  
Beowulf may believe an animal--a less common term--has less worth than a human, but since I don't, I can relate to him.  
  
I murmur, I definitely want to. Beowulf, you're a wonderful person.  
  
He really doesn't have any sort of a hunter's feelings on the subject of killing. Because of this, I think it's just better that I listen instead of relating my own feelings.  
  
I don't think any warrior on the battlefield could ever understand.  
  
Some other time, then... he says slowly, looking rather confused. I wonder...did he think that I would be unreasonable and wouldn't try to understand?  
  
It's times like these that I can't help but like myself more than the common mindset.  
  
I nod. I'll be waiting.  
  
He stares at me a moment longer before he engulfs me in a tight hug. I thought you'd hate me, I hear him mutter into my hair, why don't you?  
  
Because you're hurting, too, I press harder into him, wrapping my arms around him, trying to show him how much I truly understand, after you quit, let's go to Lesalia. I'm sure you'd like to return home, right?  
  
Yeah...that'd be nice. Sis would love to meet you... he pulls away, loosening one arm in order to touch my face, slightly tugging on the lock of hair to the left of it, Lionel's more of your home, though. Are you sure you're fine with leaving?  
  
Really, it doesn't matter to me. Ivalice is my home. Traveling sounds like fun, actually.  
  
Hm, alright then, he leans in, placing a quick kiss on my lips, thank you.  
  
We sit like this for a long time, holding each other, indulging in small kisses with no promise of going further. It's sort of like when we were first dating, when each kiss was individual and precious. Those were simpler times. I was often confused and anxious, but I was still enjoying myself. Since then, we've done so much more, and now we face so much more. The times aren't quite so simple anymore.  
  
But it's still so much fun to hold each other and act like the situation hasn't changed at all.  
  
...Reis, I've got to go, Beowulf says after a long, lingering kiss. I sigh and he chuckles, don't do that, I don't want to leave either. But, I still have to rearrange the schedules to cover my absence, secure two chocobos for tomorrow, get supplies, buy rings, finish some paperwork... I stare at him until he notices,   
  
I tilt my head. 'Buy rings'?  
  
Wedding rings, he clarifies. At least, I'm sure that would be a clarification for someone who actually understands more of Ivalice's wedding rituals than I, think of it as proof of marriage.  
  
Oh. I see. How strange. Alright then, easily, I slide off of his lap and stand beside him, I'll see you tomorrow morning, then.  
  
He nods as he stands. Early tomorrow morning. I'd like it if you didn't leave this room until then, just in case... he shrugs, just in case Buremonda tries something again.  
  
Hn. Would he really...? I suppose there's no telling what a person's capable of.   
  
leaning over, he kisses my forehead, I'll see you tomorrow, he smiles, a classic Beowulf smile, then he walks towards the door and leaves, taking care not to slam the door after his exit. I sit down. Hm, I'm tired. I lay down on the bed, closing my eyes afterward.  
  
There are so many different circumstances, aren't there? And they keep crossing each other, like Head Diplomat Koizumi will find out in a couple of days. I really hope he's as honorable as Beowulf makes him out to be.  
  
It's strange how different we all are. How a former hunter can sympathize with a reluctant assassin because of a...cultural understanding, and yet the two will come at odds when it comes to other things. It's strange, but it's also good that I can share an experience with him because of my background. I'm happy about that.  
  
Experiences are funny things, I think. Some of them can help, others can hinder. And some...  
  
--_I told you to wait, didn't I?_--  
  
Everybody carries with them their own experiences, their own viewpoints. A relationship is all about reconciling all those past experiences and viewpoints while creating new ones with another person. That's the really great thing about being a human, since there's potentially more types of people to share oneself with. All those sides, all the viewpoints...they're all so interesting. I'd like to hear as many as possible in my life. I'd like to understand as many of them as possible.  
  
--_I just wanted you to listen to me, to understand me..._--  
  
There are so many sides, but there's no way I could understand them all.

-End to chapter 28-

I had the opportunity to see the Final Fantasy: Dear Friends concert in LA yesterday (5/10). If it weren't for that concert, I wouldn't have had the inspiration to finish this chapter in time. Out of all the art forms available, I love music the most. Even if I'm a writer, I don't truly think that the written word can reach the heights that music is capable of. Someday, I'd like the quality of my writing to reach, to become a perfectly attuned melody that can soar effortlessly into the hearts and minds of people. What an honor that'd be...  
  
Incidentally, if you want to know what songs were performed, please check my bio.  
  
As far as this chapter goes, it's a chapter. A plan...but will it work? (...Well...)  
  
-That title is weird. Sympathetique' is inspired by the Persona 2: EP song, Pathetique No. 5'...I think that's what it's called. Well, it's one of the Velvet Room songs. Fenio' is the Japanese nickname for Phoenix no O', or Phoenix Down'. In the Japanese version of FFT, one of the generic characters (Feldman) notes this. Thanks to the Generic Quotes FAQ for this knowledge!  
  
-I apologize for the formatting of this chapter. That QuickEdit thing seems to not recognize more than one usage of the enter key at a time...  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Ah, MavGunloc...hm, hm, how to respond. I actually hadn't thought much of the beginning scene with Beowulf and Reis, but I'm really glad that it's accurate as far as male/female portrayals. And when I saw what you'd written as far as Verden goes...I was so happy! I honestly worried over how people would find his characterization in that chapter. I really was hoping that no one would say that he was just' this or that. Ah, vindication is wonderful...anyway, let's see what happens to these three together, shall we?  
  
Yo, Luna. Hm, you really think so about Verden? Of course I have my own opinion, but do you think that he may, just a little, love the real' Reis?  
Hey, congrats. Hope you did really well on the SATs, and finals...argh, that starts next week. Study, study...  
I'm not sure if it's an ability to write these chapters, or a curse. It's not entirely my idea when and how to end a chapter, that's what the story tells (bothers) me into doing. It's not really patience' so much as how you feel', I think.  
  
Hey, The Burning Misery...oh, so that's what that' means? Heh, I don't know how people keep erasing their reviews with the dictionary function.  
Yep, my little story's absorbed over a hundred reviews. Did you know that this is only the fourth story to do so in this section? I honestly didn't think so many people would ever like this story enough to spend some time writing about it, but I'm grateful to all of them.  
What Beowulf is hiding...? I didn't write his interlude(s) for my health, y'know. =P As for Verden...seems like everyone thinks he's creepy/misguided-delusional. I'm happy.  
First-person stories are...well, I don't think that they're difficult to write. But, they're difficult to read sometimes. I guess it depends how immersed' in the character the writer is. But yes, there can be lots of balance problems that just don't show up in third-person.  
Meh, I feel sad about WHW ending, but I can't wait to start something new as well. At least this story is succeeding past all my wildest expectations.  
Sorry, I hated being young' years ago. Now, I'm not so sure I like the idea of being old' either.  
  
Hi, Toastyann! I'm happy to receive one of your longer reviews, those are always enjoyable to read!  
Ah, Buremonda. I don't really know if my approach of focusing more on Reis and Beowulf, instead of the love triangle as a whole, was a good idea, but it would've been the only way I could've kept my sanity. With this, maybe Buremonda was far more developed than I first thought...but yeah, I really didn't want to stereotype him as much as possible. That would be boring.  
I...write like I'm older? Um...thank you? I don't know about having a mature slant to my writing, but I do appreciate the compliment.  
I'm sorry that the pacing bothered you. However, a fast-paced first-person narrative is...my skill doesn't extend that far. Seems like it would trip over itself. But you're right, I am a psychology major--one who at one time was going to become a psychologist--and I love just fully analyzing people. People are just so interesting.  
Ah, chapter twenty-one. I've been wanting to redo that chapter for a long time now...my heart just wasn't in it.  
Oh, I've already got plans for my next few stories in the FFT section. Agrias really doesn't interest me, sorry. But there are plenty of Agrias stories, so I'm sure you have plenty of reading material! Since you suggested it, I read the first chapter of that story...it's very well written, but I'm not really interested. But please don't feel offended, I'll read anything you suggest.  
  
Quex (that's an interesting name...), I'm very happy to hear/read that! When did you start reading, if you don't mind me asking? I'm sorry it's ending too, and please don't worry about reviewing or not reviewing. As long as there are people reading and enjoying the story, I'm happy.  
  
Mavina, you've got the worst luck in reviewing EVAR. Doesn't seem like I'll get two reviews, but if it happens I'll erase one. Hm, horrid death...let's see what I can come up with.  
FFT screwed everybody's lives up. I guess that's life...  
  
Thank you for reading/reviewing! Well, let's keep walking together until we reach the end!  
  
Chapter 29: Fate: No, I don't believe this is going too far for her. For Reis...this is the only thing I can do for her. 


	32. 29: Fate

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Chapter 29: Fate  
  
This is the moment.  
  
I'm running, stretching towards Beowulf, a victim of the same spell I had been under only days before. I have to make it! I have to--  
  
Buremonda's lips close upon the last syllable of his spell and an inky black..._thing_ erupts from his outstretched palms, a malignant ball of palpable energy flying towards my love.  
  
If only I was the talkative, vocally emotive type, then maybe I could scream his name. It won't do anything now, but then, maybe, Beowulf could hear me and know that I'm here.  
  
I'm here, Beowulf.  
  
This is the moment, and even as I throw myself in front of him, I remember all the moments that led up to this one.  
  
-----  
  
It's a cold day today.  
  
I've already gone out once, while the darkness was absolute and foreboding, in order to go take a bath. It was snowing then, large pieces of white that were lazily drifting in the darkness. The clock, high up on its tower, had read five past five. It's not a normal time for me to be awake, but I feel so excited. I'm leaving! I'm going with Beowulf and we're going to be married and from then on we won't have to worry about the Church this...' or the Church that...'!  
  
Not even the cold can cool down my excitement.  
  
So now I'm folding clothes, all those articles of cloth that are currently spending time on the floor of my room. Not like some of these pieces of clothing haven't already in the recent past. I'll have to work on that; a wife shouldn't be lazy with housework. So I fold and fold and fold and wonder why I have so much in the way of clothing. I should've done it yesterday, but I...well, I slept the whole day away. That kind of thing can happen if I'm not careful. Wintertime makes me sleepier, I've noticed.  
  
Strange...it's all so strange.  
  
I place the nicely-folded blouse inside my valise, on top of the countless other blouses and skirts and dresses already inhabiting the medium-sized box. There's a small smile on my face that I can't seem to get rid of. I don't know why it's there, but I can't help it. Even in this simple but tedious chore, I feel...peaceful. Relaxed. Even with the snow and the darkness, I feel excited. A little contradicting, but very pleasant all the same. These feelings bunch up, not at all comfortable with each other at first, then they spread out over me, warming me. It's all like smoothing out a patchwork quilt.  
  
Maybe that's what happiness is, a patchwork of so many different emotions that somehow manage to fit right. And it's warm. I should make one once we get to Lesalia. He's talked before about how cold it is there.  
  
Hm. I giggle quietly. I'm too used to dwelling on something; my current frame of mind is unsettling. Then again, I'm not usually this sort of happy. I'm used to it being a bit more...languid than this.  
  
All kinds of happiness are easy to come by...if you're not looking.  
  
Isn't that the problem, though? We're all wallowing in the despair of fated or self-created problems, unable or unwilling to open our eyes and see the true beauty of life.  
  
I know I was.  
  
Sitting on the cold floor in front of my valise, I lower my head and take a deep breath. The heirloom stone is sitting next to me, so I pick it up and place it on my lap, holding it in my hands as I study its simplistic pitcher-like shape.  
  
It used to be so easy, life was. As a child, my parents made all the really important decisions. All I had to do was learn: learn how to be a great hunter, learn how to be a great wife. As I understand it, one's childhood is for learning how to effectively deal with one's adulthood. But I was having a lot of fun as a child, even with all the burdens of learning to be an adult resting on my shoulders, and I often looked at my parents, thinking, for the rest of my life, everything will be fun! Just like my parents, I'll live out my life in happiness!' After all, on monster-infested Bariaus Hill, my parents were my only examples of what adults, that strange breed of human, were supposed to be.  
  
Now that I'm an adult, I haven't a clue what an adult's supposed to be. Stressed, maybe?  
  
So far, my life in Bariaus Hill is my favorite period of my life...even after removing the heavy coat of nostalgia from those memories. Though, the life I've been living in Lionel overall runs a very close second. Not just because of Beowulf, though he's very significant to me, but because of all the people I've met while I was here. Chiroseau, Peppermint, Izlude, Chieko...I'm even willing to include Scarlet and Buremonda on this list of people who've enhanced my life here.  
  
Wow...that's a lot of people, now that I think about it. And many of these people have left...  
  
But then again, aren't I leaving as well?  
  
Maybe it's a good thing that those who've left are gone. I didn't like it at the time--who likes saying goodbye?--and it's certainly showed me how unstable life is. But all these people--my friends--have spread themselves throughout Ivalice, throughout the world and...it's as if, no matter where I go, I'll find a friend.  
  
No matter where I go, I won't be alone.  
  
It's sad to admit this, but by myself I can't really do anything except cling to life. I don't grow, learn, experience nearly as much as I do when I'm with others. I'm not really comfortable with just myself. I wonder if anyone truly is?  
  
I think...I think that a human's worst enemy is their self. I know mine is. Maybe that's why most people like to surround themselves with other people, people they like and respect. In this way, we can hide ourselves within the group, and maybe transcend ourselves into something we'd like to be alone with.  
  
Maybe. I'm sure some people succeed too, but the rest of us are bored with ourselves and always wish to change something so that we'll be...better. Different. Interesting.  
  
Of course, change isn't a matter of what one can do, but rather what ends up happening. One has to lose something to gain another, and no human truly likes losing anything. They're very comfortable with what they are because they know it, instead of changing and stepping into the unknown. Beowulf would understand. He personally knows. That's why he's here in Lionel, even to this day. But soon he won't be.  
  
The reason why he is able to step into the unknown is because he won't be alone.  
  
I place the last of my clothes into my valise, smiling a bit at my accomplishment. To my left is the box with the enchanted bracelet. I'd like to wear it for our wedding, so I pick it up and fit it between the folds of my Holy Knight dress, which happens to be on top of all the other clothes so I don't have to dump all my nicely folded clothes just to get at my wedding dress.  
  
--_Why don't you wear that one you used for that ball?_--  
  
And after all I was thinking, I still have to reuse this dress in the end. I guess that's the way life is.  
  
Closing the valise, I climb up onto my bed and lay on top of the blanket, staring dimly at the myriad of cracks along my ceiling wall. The barest glimmer of light is showing, and what it's showing me of my room isn't very pleasant. I'm sure none of the rooms in any...manor in Lesalia have cracked ceilings. They all probably have fresh plaster gleaming white, even through the shadows of the night. Maybe that's the mark of a nice house: the ceilings don't look like replacements for the Best Trails in Ivalice' map.  
  
...Actually, that makes me kind of nervous.  
  
I'm assuming that we'll be staying at Beowulf's childhood home for awhile--at least until we find a nice, small place of our own--and if it's a really nice and big house just like Beowulf said it was...I've never been in a place like that before. Murond doesn't count because lots of people were living there. Lionel castle really shouldn't count, since it's owned by the Church...well, it was really too much. But a manor' ...it sounds grand.  
  
Can someone like me fit in a place full of grandeur?  
  
I wonder where I could work in a town...no, a city like that. I will work, I know that much. Beowulf would just say no, that I shouldn't worry about that...hn. Turning over so that I face the wall next to the bed, I glare at the cold stone. Deep breath...I once heard that there were large structures called museums' in Lesalia. These places hold artifacts from Ivalice's past...maybe they'll have transcripts that need to be translated. That can't be anymore tedious than Ajora's lofty and incomprehensible words.  
  
--dingdingDONGding--  
  
Six. Where is he? I wish he'd given me an approximate time to expect his arrival.  
  
--_Early tomorrow morning_--  
  
It's early now, isn't it?  
  
...Hm. I should've asked him. I'll wait a little longer. Maybe he just woke up late. I don't know how he could, though, if he's anywhere near as excited about all of this as I am.  
  
Maybe something's wrong?  
  
...That's a little weird. I mean, what could go wrong? It's only six, he'll show up soon.  
  
...  
  
I sit up, my irrational and nervous energy urging me to do something more than lie in bed and worry away while the seconds tick by on the church's clock. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I feel something smooth and slightly warm under my right foot, and I flinch away from it. What's that? I peer over the edge of the bed and see the pitcher-shaped stone innocently sitting there.  
  
--_I know that you can treat it the way it deserves to be treated, that's why I'm entrusting it to you_--  
  
Sorry about that, I whisper, feeling only slightly silly about talking to an inanimate object. Reaching down, I pick it up and cradle it against my stomach. I don't know why, but holding it like this is...calming. Though, I'm still worried.  
  
--_I'd like it if you didn't leave this room until then, just in case...just in case Buremonda tries something again_--  
  
Hmm...I've taken at least one exception from that today, when I went out for a bath...hm. Well, I think I deserve one more look around the church, for nostalgia's sake as well as for the sake of my nerves. Beowulf can let himself in. I just need to do something, anything. I move off of my bed, slipping the stone into one of the pockets of my dress while slipping my feet into my favorite black boots. Making my way to the door, I look back at the bed. The sheets are bunched up a bit, but I'm not feeling considerate enough to actually do it up nicely. Besides, when it's like this, I can almost see  
  
_Come closer aren't we close enough no not yet hm that's a real problem isn't it that's just what I was thinking love_  
  
the little bit of happiness that we've brought into this room.  
  
I'd like to think that anyone who walked in could, especially if they weren't looking for it.  
  
------  
  
It's still a cold day, even after meandering about the northern end of the church in no less than boots, ninja tights, a long-sleeved shirt and a thick dress over it. When he arrives, I'll be sure to take out my traveling cloak from my valise.  
  
There's no wind, no snow. It's half past six, so there aren't any people out either. The sky is fairly dark; it's been perpetually cloudy since winter hit and the sun can't hope to pierce through the deceptively fluffy mass. Altogether, it gives off a quiet sort of loneliness.  
  
Time to move on. I can't wait for springtime and a sun lazily crossing the endless blue sky.  
  
Silently, I move away from the sill that I had been leaning out of, trying to catch a glimpse of Bariaus Hill through the morning fog. It was a futile gesture; I'll be seeing it up close soon enough. And when I do, it may be the last time I will have my back to Lionel castle town.  
  
I wonder...did all the friends I made who have left this place...did they think about that? Did Peppermint take one last glance at the church and think of the job she had been unfairly fired from? Was Izlude secretly wishing he could go back to studying under me even while he was headed towards Bervenia?  
  
Even if they were thinking those things, they still kept going.  
  
That's all we really can do, isn't it?  
  
But even so, leaving the town to get married, while also quitting our jobs and eventually leaving Lionel...that's certainly more than just keep going', isn't it? It's more like get out of the way of our runaway chocobo cart!'  
  
I laugh. It's all a little absurd, I suppose.  
  
One last time, I try to find the top of Bariaus Hill through the fog and the clouds, but I'm not surprised when I can't. Soon enough, soon enough...  
  
I turn to leave, but I'm not sure where to go from here. Should I just go and wait back in my room? I'm still feeling restless, but maybe Beowulf is there. Quickly I make my way to my room, twisting the doorknob and peering inside my room...oh, he's not here.  
  
It's almost seven...that's not very early, not to us anymore...  
  
Closing the door, I lean against it and stare out of the holes in the wall to the town proper. A lone person is walking towards the south end of town.  
  
Beowulf...where are you? This isn't like you...you always mean what you say.  
  
Shaking my head, I move away from the door. I feel like something bad is happening, but I know I'm being paranoid. It's not even seven yet. Maybe he'll be by at seven. He has a lot to do, being an important man to Lionel and all. Maybe he was just overly tired from all the things he had to arrange, and soon he'll come by, apologizing for oversleeping. Then I can tell him that I've been so worried, and he'll laugh and tell me that he's perfectly fine, he still got here, didn't he?  
  
Yes, that's right, I'm just being very paranoid. I need to calm down. I'll just sneak into the library and read something on theology and if I don't fall asleep first I'll definitely won't be so anxious.  
  
Logic always triumphs over irrational thought...well, except for love.  
  
Now enveloped by a sense of calm, I casually walk to the front of the church  
  
_How could you let yourself be so easily tricked?_  
  
but I stop when my ears register something faint. Strange, that sounded like  
  
_Perhaps it was because of what you tricked me with._  
  
Buremonda at first, but now Beowulf?  
  
...That's strange. What would the two of them be doing that involves Buremonda tricking Beowulf? Thoroughly confused now, I resume my steady pace to the library. Maybe I'm just going delusional again, just like the time that I thought that Izlude was my brother Quain...speaking of which, Izlude's letter still hasn't arrived yet. Ah, I'll ask Beowulf to get it for me.  
  
_To do all this...what are you planning?_  
  
Library. Beowulf's voice is coming from the library.  
  
No. No. My bad feeling...it's just paranoia, isn't it?  
  
One of the library doors is open when I arrive. I glance through the opening, frowning when I see Beowulf in the middle of the room. I guess I can't doubt my senses. His back is to the door, and with the light flooding into the room via the skylight I can see that he's in casual clothes, boots and brown pants and a white cloak. Alright, so it's a little strange to see him in something that isn't his uniform, but something else...there's something else wrong with this.  
  
He's standing there...but that's it.  
  
He's not the fidgety type or anything, but he is lively enough to move around a bit, even while standing in one place. A shrug of his shoulders, a turn of his head, his hands clenching and unclenching...something.  
  
But instead, he looks rooted to the spot. Not just rooted, but...  
  
--_Reis, **stop**_****--  
  
That can't be...  
  
I walk forward, hoping that I can free Beowulf from that horrible possession. However, I walk right into something...but the door isn't in the way. Reaching out, I flinch when my hand stops just where the door would be if it were closed. In fact, I can move my hand along this weird...barrier...to the left until it slides along the wood of the other door. I knock on the nothingness that feels solid to my hand, but there's no sound.  
  
...What kind of magic is this? And since Beowulf is inside...how did he get through this and not know that a trap was laid inside?  
  
--tmptmptmp--  
  
I crouch down behind the closed door, peering through the space left by the other door. Buremonda appears from the left side of the room, and that's when I notice that all the tables that normally stand in the middle of the room have been pushed away. Looking at Beowulf's feet, there is a faint bluish glow...is that the magic that's holding him? If the magic is attached to the floor and not to Buremonda himself...does that mean that Beowulf won't be able to break out of it by distracting Buremonda?  
  
I should do something...I want to so badly, but...if Buremonda is willing to go through such drastic preparations, I don't think he's going to stop just because he sees me. He might just stop me as well...and then what?  
  
All I can do is wait.  
  
Buremonda approaches Beowulf, a gnarled staff in one hand, a thick tome in the other. I intend to punish you for your transgressions. No more, no less, holding the curved top of the staff, Buremonda stabs the ground with its pointed bottom and begins walking a wide circle around Beowulf, this is on behalf of Heaven.  
  
Oh, so this is God's will? Beowulf's tone is very...hm, mocking. Well, he does have the capacity for it, and right now I really can't blame him. Don't hide behind your faith. You're doing this for Reis, not because of some divine command.  
  
This is...true, a slight nod accompanies Buremonda's admission, I find myself more and more surprised at what I would do to keep Reis safe. It is...a compulsion, one would say.  
  
'A compulsion'? Although I don't really know how to feel about that, Beowulf sounds very skeptical. You seem to be fully willing to do anything underhanded for her. Don't blame her for your actions.  
  
Anything underhanded'? For me? Why...  
  
--_Reis, I truly love you_--  
  
...Yes, but...hm. I'm naive, yes, but why can't only good things happen because of love? Why is love both so wonderful and so horrible?  
  
Why is any emotional concept, really?  
  
But to say that this trap is originally my fault, because without me there wouldn't be an inspiration behind it, isn't that...isn't that going too far?  
  
...Is it?  
  
With a few more steps, Buremonda's circle is finished. You may not know this, but in every church the head priest must take the role of both spiritual leader and abolisher of the personal sins that the devout wish to repent, he explains in a soft tone as he begins drawing things onto the circle, but who do priests confess their sins to? I realize that even paper is ill-suited for the job of bearing the weight of my increasingly gratuitous sin now. So, seeing that you are indisposed to do much else at the moment, I shall confess to you and it will be as private as a confessional booth.  
  
Ah. Because you plan on disposing of me anyway, right? In contrast to those doom-laden words, Beowulf is still calm. I wish...I wish I knew what he was thinking...are his thoughts really as calm as his words? Did you want me to personally deliver your confessions to God? I'm honored. You actually believe I'm going to heaven.  
  
...Beowulf, don't goad him like that. Please. If he gets too angry, who knows what he might do...  
  
I'm not that hopeful for any noble, nor any knight. You are merely convenient, Buremonda moves so that his profile, facing left, can be seen. Surreptitiously, I kick at the barrier once, twice before stopping when he casually turns in my direction. Thank God the other door is closed... anyone who could boast of both titles cannot possibly be touched by God. The nobles take, the knights take, and what remains of Ivalice? Starving commoners, young mothers, and endless warfare, he shakes his head, how do you live with yourself?  
  
Pretty easily, considering that I'm more than a couple of titles and generalizations, Beowulf counters. I smile.  
  
--_but my job isn't who I am_--  
  
Yes, exactly. Why can't you see that, Buremonda? Why can't you see beyond the labels each of us bear?  
  
Inspiring words. I'll believe your sincerity when a commoner becomes king, sighing lightly, Buremonda continues drawing obscure shapes on and around his circle, but for now, I would say that your new label would be that as a hypocrite'. Skirting around edicts made by a priest just to satisfy your desires, just a microcosm of the relationship between the aristocracy and the Church. You claim there are no labels, yet you continue to follow the trend. Unsurprising.  
  
...Excuse me? Hypocrite'? I glare at Buremonda's back. A charge like that from him is almost funny, if it didn't display the ignorance he has about himself.  
  
It's just sad.  
  
_I'm_ a hypocrite? Beowulf's tone is one of bewilderment. Wait...you honestly believe that you're on some higher moral ground compared to me? You lie, criticize others unfairly, surround yourself with only women as your white mages, and are, at this very moment, making preparations to kill me because you want Reis. And somehow you're able to claim that you're nothing more than a servant to God, the last words are said with a generous helping of disgust. That's very understandable.  
  
Weren't you just saying that labels are unnecessary? And now this talk about my life's work? That's a very swift turnaround there, Sir Kadmus, oh, God, is he only listening for the things he could throw back at Beowulf, no matter how shaky they are?  
  
What you're guilty of has more merit on the role you play, Beowulf answers quietly, yes, I have desires. Everyone does. You're no different. That's why you started that inane rule, that no fraternization' between knights and white mages. All you really cared about was shielding Reis from every eligible male, right?  
  
Buremonda nods, though how Beowulf is supposed to see it when that priest is standing behind him is another thing altogether. Yes, that is true. Everything I have done since I first caught sight of her years before was for her. A single glance at that beautiful soul was enough to make me wish to devote my life to her, my shining angel. Although I am beholden to the Lord and the Holy Saint, she is, as well, deserving of my eternal allegiance.  
  
I narrow my eyes at this while probing the bottom of the invisible shield for a hole of some kind.  
  
--_It's as I first thought. Reis, you truly are a queen of angels, both in presence and beauty_--  
  
Those words. Always those words.  
  
I'm sick of them.  
  
Beowulf mutters, obsession at first sight. So that's why you were so eager to transfer her here once Draclau left.  
  
If it could've prevented this...I would've disobeyed orders and stayed in Murond in the first place. My happiness isn't worth this...  
  
Yes. I wanted to see her and exchange words with her on a daily basis. I had found my peace when I finally got the chance to be near her... Buremonda's tone is wistful, and...it reminds me of the simpler times, when I thought he was kind and tranquil, almost angelic in both looks and attitude, but...  
  
--_If he wants to play this game, let him. I just don't like how he used Reis for this_--  
  
It was short-lived. Before my first month in Lionel had ended, I had learned to be wary of him, but I...I still thought he was mostly nice anyway. I just hated how he treated Beowulf and Peppermint.  
  
--_Reis, **stop**_****--  
  
And me.  
  
But then she started to change.  
  
What?  
  
Well...yes, she's changed. She's a lot more open now...that's a bad thing? Beowulf sounds as confused as I feel.  
  
Buremonda slowly follows the circle in the same direction he had been going before--clockwise--still scratching strange symbols into the floor. He's heading towards facing Beowulf again, so I stop poking and prodding the invisible barrier and scrunch a bit more behind the closed door, holding my hair back as I watch with my unblocked right eye.  
  
What is he going to say about my change? Why does _he_ care?  
  
You corrupted her--  
  
God, not this again. You know, if you were a musician, you'd get fired for playing the same note over and ove--  
  
It's like a roar, Buremonda's interruption is, and I flinch when it slams into my ears. She used to be so modest, incapable of spewing false words and cruel invectives. But, within a month of her meeting with you, I had to bear witness as she walked around in...in that shameless excuse for battle wear that is the female monk's uniform. And the outfit later, when your worthless knights couldn't do their job and defend this town... very visibly, he grits his teeth, eyes flaring with anger...and something else? but even worse than those clothes was how you turned that innocent girl to lying, covering up for you even as you inflicted your evil deeds onto her untainted soul!  
  
...Although I didn't like it, I still made the choice to lie multiple times to him. And yet, it's all Beowulf's fault.  
  
Are there ever going to be any actions of mine that Buremonda will accredit to me?  
  
And what would you have done if she hadn't lied? Beowulf asks, his voice quickly losing the moderate quality that had made him sound calm, even in the face of whatever Buremonda is planning. You would've thrown her out of Lionel if she told you the truth. It's a survival instinct to protect oneself by any means possible. You can't blame her for being human.  
  
Well, more or less.  
  
'Blame her'? Believe me, I completely realize that she did not cause her own downfall. That was your work, even as far away as I am, I can see a cold glint in Buremonda's eyes as he glares up at Beowulf, I know about survival instincts. I saw quite a few in Zeltennia that were inspired by your kind. To survive, one might even submit to their captor's demands, his lips form a thin line, is that familiar to you, Sir Kadmus?  
  
That's...even for him, that's going too far, that...  
  
You really believe that, don't you? Beowulf's voice is quiet, almost meek, yet...there's something running along those words, like the crackling of flames... You honestly believe that I've corrupted her, perverted her, tried to turn her into a demon in human flesh, whatever you've fantasized. And you need to believe it, right, because the alternative really gets to you, the subtle crackling flares into the roar of a thickly-burning fire.  
  
Buremonda...it's strange, but he seems to be...it's like he's under the same spell that he seems so fond of using. His stare is like a sharp silver of ice, unaffected by the heat of Beowulf's words. Even if they aren't moving, I feel like I'm watching a vicious battle.  
  
I can't interrupt this time. All I can do is hope that they can calm themselves down. I can't even hope that Beowulf will win.  
  
These are just words, after all.  
  
The fact that Reis could be human, could actually want to do the things you disapprove of...that bothers you the most, Beowulf continues, sounding wholly unaffected by the icy stare being sent his way, did you really think that you could control her that easily? Are you being self-righteous now because of your compulsions' towards Reis, or are you just angry that she wasn't the person you thought she was, and you needed a scapegoat to blame for her humanity?  
  
There is only silence after Beowulf's words, a dry and brittle silence that is settling over all of us like fine dust. It's a silence that gets into one's mouth and nose, easily stifling words for a moment or two. That's all, though. This isn't that sort of silence that all the participants walk away from in shame or shock. I've seen that at Murond a couple of times, mainly from the very highest of priests. It was if someone had told them they had been worshipping a false god.  
  
No, this isn't that kind of silence. This is the silence before reaction, the silence just before that very still red panther lunges for your throat.  
  
The way she is now is very unappealing to me. Too crude, without any tact...she sounds somewhat like you, the tone is gentle and light, the smile contemplative from what I can see before Buremonda moves to stand directly in front of Beowulf, while I'm sure that she will lose much of that inherited willpower once she hears of your death, she probably won't suddenly fall back into becoming that delicate angel I loved.  
  
I'm looking forward to helping her realize her true potential.  
  
...  
  
...Those words...just now, they sent a chill running down my spine...  
  
Beowulf whispers, a dark undertone running along that word. I look at him, squinting because I...there's something I can sense around him, touching off one of my senses but...why can't I see it?  
  
Beowulf, what are you doing...?  
  
You know, it's almost funny how you believe you can manipulate Reis for your own ends. Obviously any strength she demonstrates now comes from me, because she's _so_ fragile, he sounds strange. His voice is strained...or is it my hearing that's off? you shouldn't underestimate her. I know she'll survive long after I'm gone. She doesn't need me around to be strong.  
  
But I don't intend to test that out today.  
  
A large blue-white streak of light falls from...somewhere and plummets into the spot next to Buremonda. Blinking rapidly, I can just make out his heavily-robed figure stumbling away from Beowulf's spellbound form through the numerous blotches distorting my vision.  
  
The lightning falls again.  
  
How are you able to do this?! Buremonda is angry, so angry, but I can't help but smile when I hear the fear in his voice. You shouldn't have the skill to banish any part of my spell!  
  
I don't, Beowulf nonchalantly replies, his voice slightly strained again, at least, not immediately. Since these spells aren't attached to you, you can't feel me unlocking any of them, especially this Don't Act component. Haven't a clue why you didn't attach these spells to yourself, unless someone's already proven how unreliable that is...  
  
I'll tell you everything, just please, get out safely...  
  
The telltale spark that signifies the falling of the lightning appears just above Buremonda's head...what is that...that sheen that just encircled his body...?  
  
...Where's the lightning?  
  
A cloud of celestial blue and silver surrounds Beowulf, just before--oh, God...  
  
No!!  
  
All I can hear are his screams as lancelets of lightning tear into his unprotected body, unable to move or even twitch as each bolt re-rends...stop it, God, please...  
  
Stop it!  
  
My right shoulder hurts when I hurl myself into the invisible barrier, but the stupid thing holds as if I were nothing but a feather. I try to claw through it with my short nails, but the skin underneath my nails pinches and tears too easily, making the surface slick with my blood.  
  
I won't stop.  
  
The lightning is gone, leaving multiple charred burns throughout Beowulf's once pristine cloak. He's breathing shallowly, each breath hitching and slow. He sounds like he wants to collapse, but that spell holds him up and makes him look as if he were a perfect statue, albeit with scorch marks. Buremonda takes a few steps to the right, a bland expression on his face. Did you think that I wouldn't take measures to protect myself?  
  
Was worth... Beowulf coughs, each sound eliciting tears from my eyes. God, I'm so pathetic...is this all I can do? ...a try. Another spell...layered...  
  
Ah, would you be talking about the sluggishness you might be feeling, or the disorientation? You really shouldn't have the skill to unlock the basic Don't Act or Move spells, but just in case you did I decided on...insurance, if you will, slowly, Buremonda shakes his head as if he were...disappointed? you're planning to take Reis away from me. Did you really think that I wouldn't use every spell in my repertoire in order to prevent such a thing?  
  
At that smug tone, I punch the barrier with my right hand. Something cracks and I flinch. Thank God I'm ambidextrous.  
  
Beowulf coughs again. Impressive. Are you done recounting your sins?  
  
I hadn't even started, Buremonda starts, glancing away from Beowulf, don't be so presumptuous to--  
  
And his eyes meet mine.  
  
My eyes aren't very special. A lot of Ivalicians have brown eyes. My brothers' amber eyes were a rarity, and Beowulf's brandy eyes are simply incredible. Green eyes, hazel eyes, blue eyes...those are all fairly common in varying amounts, but nothing beats brown eyes in mediocrity.  
  
They may be a very average color, but my eyes are very good at conveying meaning.  
  
Buremonda, if you do anything to Beowulf, if you hurt him in any way, using any method, you _will_ regret it.  
  
I promise.  
  
With the lightness of the morning clouds pouring through the library skylight, I can clearly see Buremonda's face pale before he turns around and heads towards the back of the room. Maybe...he's giving up? I should've glared at him a long time ago...wait. He turns around, facing Beowulf. This is my sin, this spell I am about to cast. It is a forbidden spell, one that the Lucavi were said to have used on their victims. A spell that can transform humans into mere monsters.  
  
What? How is that possible...is magic that powerful...?  
  
You'd forfeit your soul to get rid of me? Beowulf whispers, his voice hoarse. Don't you think that's going a little too far?  
  
No, I don't believe this is going too far for her. For Reis...this is the only thing I can do for her, Buremonda opens the tome in his hand, flipping through the pages until he shifts his hold on it, the circle around you will increase the accuracy to perfection. If there is even a little bit of a beast's potential in you, you will transform. Frozen in that state, I will call on your knights to dispose of you.  
  
You..._sick_...  
  
If you are completely human, an unlikely concept, you will simply die, the tome closes in his hand, any final words?  
  
I won't let you...  
  
I pound on the barrier again and again, vainly trying to ignore what Beowulf's silence could mean. Please, he's just being defiant, right? He's not unconscious or...no! He can't be! He can't! I'll protect him, I'll be there! Stupid barrier, get out of my way!  
  
--crak--  
  
Grimacing, I throw myself against the barrier instead, my right shoulder protesting again, but I can't stop, I won't stop, please...just let me through...  
  
Words slither into my ears, ones I can't even begin to understand in my rage, my desperation, but they touch off something deep inside me. These words...they're like acid and the stench of broken spoiled eggs and half-rotted bodies casually thrown from their tombs and the skittering of a thousand battalions of various bugs, running towards the latest battlefield, preparing to feast and feast on the bloody corpses...  
  
--_It is a forbidden spell, one that the Lucavi were said to have used on their victims_--  
  
Lu-Lucavi? Real? What is...feelings, two sides...of me? Scares me _appeals to me_ monster _human_ death _power_ go away _take me_  
  
_Take me_  
  
My right hand touches something cool to the touch, the index and middle fingers useless as my hand closes around the stone.  
  
The stone.  
  
Stone...paperweight? Heirloom...whose?  
  
Beowulf.  
  
Beowulf!  
  
My head snaps up. What just--oh God, what is that? There's an ugly, bulbous darkness shifting, twisting around Buremonda. He wants to hurt Beowulf with...that? Springing away from the barrier, which I had been leaning against during that weird episode, I yank my hand out of my pocket. I have to get through!  
  
I bring down my abused hand onto the barrier again, and this time it goes through.  
  
In my hand, the stone glitters in the morning light. The squiggly lines are facing me...those lines...Aquarius.  
  
Beowulf's a Libra.  
  
Libra. Aquarius. Air signs, that one boring book had stated.  
  
Oh...all these weird magics...they make me so uncomfortable. Beowulf's the only one who can properly explain all these things to me...  
  
Beowulf!  
  
I start running, charging forward like a behemoth. I remember fighting a behemoth and killing it in this town, months before. Just one memory out of the countless others I possess. A memory that ends in a moment.  
  
So many moments. Am I really just twenty-one?  
  
Once, not so long ago, I thought that my missing memory held my most important moment. Because I didn't remember, it had to be important.  
  
But no, that's not true.  
  
This is the moment.  
  
I'm running, stretching towards Beowulf, a victim of the same spell I had been under only days before. I have to make it! I have to--  
  
Buremonda's lips close upon the last syllable of his spell and an inky black..._thing_ erupts from his outstretched palms, a malignant ball of palpable energy flying towards my love.  
  
If only I was the talkative, vocally emotive type, then maybe I could scream his name. It won't do anything now, but then, maybe, Beowulf could hear me and know that I'm here.  
  
I'm here, Beowulf.  
  
This is the moment, and even as I throw myself in front of him, I remember all the moments that led up to this one.  
  
_ReisdarlinglittleReisBigSisRe-isHeadCatalogerDularMissReislittlecatalogermylove_  
  
Maybe I really am just twenty-one. There really doesn't seem to be very many moments after all.  
  
But now...  
  
--_Run...ev'ryone..._  
  
...Finally, I can protect my loved one.  
  
I fling my arms up in front of my face as the darkness plunges towards me, an odd emotion welling up inside me. It's nice.  
  
I smile.  
  
...?! The stone...it's h--

-End to chapter 29-

First, I deeply apologize for the lateness of this chapter. For me, it was painful to write this chapter knowing what it entailed, so I put it aside and played lots of video games to try and alleviate the pain. Silly, huh? I also apologize for the formatting...QuickEdit and Appleworks just doesn't seem to go well together.  
  
-Museums in Ivalice, not to talk of Lesalia? The proposition treasure Tarot of Ben' has a description of it having been stolen from the Lesalia Museum of Art a...year before you randomly pick it up.  
  
-I'd like to think that Buremonda isn't a complete idiot, though he may be a lot of other things. This is why the spell isn't specifically a Holy Dragon' transformation spell, because who in their right mind would want to turn the person they hate most into such a strong monster?  
  
Reviewers (take note of this, I don't respond to reviewers in epilogues)!  
  
Nice to see you again, insane-android-ayako! I was sitting in B12-14 with a friend on the West Terrace, so I was right below you! Funny how that works out. Well, I hope this is becoming a suitable ending for you!  
  
Hey, Luna...bah, I just realized that responding to reviews a month late means that it's too late to say anything relevant. Um...hope those essays and finals turned out okay for you!  
Chieko...you know, I've really wanted to write a story about her but...would anyone read it? OCs, you know?  
  
Ello, Quex! Chapters 8-9...that's a long time ago, it feels like...can't blame you for getting sided, but at least you came back! Verden is supposed to be really confusing and contradictory, especially because this is all from Reis' POV. If it were from, say, Beowulf's POV, Verden would consistently be an asshat, I guess. I appreciate the compliment very much, even though I rarely read FFT fics. --  
Quex is an interesting name because I don't often see names that start off with Qu'. Plus, it's one syllable, which makes it a strong word. And as you can see, I analyze things too much.  
  
that I talk to you on a weekly basis, I've already responded to this review. Therefore, I'm just saying hi.  
  
Yo, The Burning Misery...you know, if you don't figure out Verden's motives by this chapter, I'm going to cry. Weep, even.  
Hey, I wouldn't be complaining about how long a chapter takes to get out. Do you know how much it hurts to try and _end_ this story? But yes, connections are abound.  
How do these quotes fit in so well with what is going on with the story? Y'know, I don't have a clue. While I'm writing, I may suddenly get an idea to place a quote from an earlier chapter. I usually remember what chapter a certain quote comes from, so I dig through that chapter (often cringing at the writing) until I find the quote. It's not as tedious as it sounds, I just have a good memory for what I--and others--write.  
It's kind of funny...this section is small, but even so, it's hard to get other people's attention to your story. There are lots of stories that I think deserve so much more attention, but no one seems to really care. Saying that, I'm very grateful that so many people actually follow up on my story. More power to the first-person, present-tense POVs!  
You'll have to tell me...are there even very many first-person, present-tense POV stories around? I think I've read one other...  
  
Mavina, I hope you survived your finals! Answer to your question: Depends on who you're asking. Me? Humans are animals, just more egotistical.  
  
Thank you very much for reading! If you've managed to get this far, then I'm overjoyed that you've probably liked this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. If you have any questions or comments, I've always got an open mind.  
  
Epilogue: Outside Holy Walls: But as troubling as those injuries had been (are, he modified as a rib creaked unsteadily), there was something far more worrisome on his mind.  
  
Why wouldn't anyone tell him where Reis was?'


	33. Epilogue: Outside Holy Walls

Within Holy Walls  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

Epilogue: Outside Holy Walls  
  
_  
  
Beowulf Kadmus stopped and looked around when he heard this, a quizzical expression forming on his face. That sounded like Reis, but he remembered specifically telling her not to leave her room until he came for her. As it was, he was standing in front of the closed doors that led to the nave of the church. Then again, he admitted to himself, I can't expect her to do as I ask. She had the sometimes endearing, sometimes annoying habit of only doing the things she felt like doing.  
  
At this thought, he smiled. That was one of the many reasons he loved her, after all. And so, mental equilibrium reestablished, he started walking again.  
  
  
  
There was no mistaking that low, sedate voice. He turned, facing the doors to the library. One of them was open. Sighing inwardly at this, he stepped inside the library, looking around at the bookshelves. He called, something bothering him about the current situation. She wasn't one to play games, especially at such a serious time.  
  
Then he saw her.  
  
She was standing at the back of the library, her back to him. Although there was light in the room due to the extravagant skylight, it didn't seem to reach where she stood, casting her figure in shadows. For a moment he almost doubted it was her, but the spill of straight blond hair past her shoulders and her slender frame put that suspicion to rest.  
  
Odd that she didn't at least turn around when I called her, Beowulf mused as he started walking towards her. You'd worried me for a moment there, love, he smiled automatically, frowning slightly only when she didn't respond or even favor him with a glance, is something wrong? Are you having second thoughts about thi--  
  
Finely honed senses from the war alerted him to just how wrong this whole situation was just as a magical pulse strummed through his body. He tried to take a step forward, then move his arms, but nothing seemed to work.  
  
He couldn't move. But, why?  
  
The longtime knight could only watch as the form of his lover shifted, stretched, and finally fell away, leaving quite a different person in her stead..._

-0-

Waking up hurt.  
  
Fortunately for Sir Beowulf Kadmus, leader of the Lionel Holy Knights and a veteran of the war that still raged through Ivalice, he was used to waking up in pain. Granted, this casual attitude to such a detrimental feeling was one of several reasons that caused him to accept the offer to become a Temple Knight, since he had never liked being in pain to begin with and because it often led to something he liked even less: death. However, that decision did not automatically exempt him from agony and the general feeling that things just weren't right with his body, as he was finding out right now.  
  
It was a good thing, then, that this was only the second time he woke up this week.  
  
The first coherent thought that came to him was that he hurt. His chest felt smashed in, which he then immediately decided couldn't really be true or else he wouldn't be alive. What was true was the fact that it hurt to breathe, because with each inhalation something felt as if it was poking rather insistently against his lungs. He would've liked to discount this as well, but he couldn't hold his breath long enough to pretend it was just his imagination. A steady throbbing began its rhythm in his head as well. An errant thought breezed through his clouded mind: _I wish that had a better melody._  
  
_Well_, he thought as a bolt of agony ripped through his chest at the resulting chuckle, _at least my sense of humor isn't injured._  
  
The second cluster of coherent thought came to him five minutes later, when he had attempted to get more comfortable in his bed and was immediately punished by another streak of pain from both his chest and head. This was when he realized that he was on his back. The thought itself wasn't earth shattering, it was just that he hadn't woken up while on his back in a long time. He'd gotten used to sleeping on his side ever since he'd started sharing Reis' bed.  
  
Reis. Something happened involving her...so where was she? The last thing he could immediately recall was finding her in the church library, but it wasn't her...  
  
Where was she?  
  
This question needed to be answered as quickly as possible, so Beowulf opened his eyes. He didn't recognize this room by its ceiling, though it seemed similar to Reis' room, what with the cracks in the ceiling and all. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself with his arms and attempted to sit up. The pain that followed was equivalent to having a hammer smashed into the back of his head while two worked on his chest over and over again. Things ground together in the latter, stabbing into things that weren't used to being stabbed and so protested this flagrant abuse.  
  
Showing a surprising display of fortitude, the bedridden knight did not immediately black out as the pain wracked through his much-abused body. Instead, he reflexively relaxed his arms, causing him to fall back onto the bed and eliciting a strangled cry from him as various ribs shifted and twisted. Dimly, he heard the sound of footsteps through the monotonous pounding in his head and wondered if that was Reis coming to check up on him. He liked the sound of that, as he didn't think he would survive trying to go to her. The footsteps grew louder and louder until he could feel another person's body near his. he weakly murmured, his voice strained.  
  
I'm sorry Sir Kadmus, but I'm not her. He appreciated the confirmation, though he'd figured this out as soon as she leaned over him. Reis didn't smell like cinnamon.  
  
He gritted his teeth as he felt hands on his chest, then relaxed as the cooling relief of a powerful cure spell washed through him like the waves of the low tide. Fighting the now overwhelming urge to sleep, he opened his eyes instead. A brunette in the robes of a white mage stood next to his bed, and as he continued to look at her she glanced at his face with tired mahogany eyes.  
  
You're currently in the church, specifically a room put aside for major injuries, he tried to interrupt, for that wasn't what he asked about, but the woman was very adept at overriding her patients' questions. You've been in here a week, and to be honest, we were considering you a lost cause. Your ribcage has been... she seemed to search for a word, well, it's fairly inverted right now. While you were lucky enough to have your heart spared, we're very sure that one of your lungs have been punctured. With the medical knowledge that we have at this time, we're really just hoping that the regenerative abilities of your body, as well as our spells, will... now she looked slightly uncomfortable, pop out the rib from your lung and that everything will piece itself together.  
  
Beowulf wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but he motioned for her to continue anyway. What else...?  
  
The white mage took in a deep breath, her normally harsh countenance softening. Although your ribcage is rather inverted right now, none of your ribs actually broke. Most of them are just fractured. Although you will be experiencing grinding sensations, we believed that if you woke up you will recover completely in time, her eyes narrowed, you've nearly died twice already, so that was something we were not expecting. You also have a concussion, but that really pales in comparison with your chest right now. Do you have any questions?  
  
He closed his eyes, feeling the soft touch of her hands on his forehead. Reis...where is she?  
  
Sir Kadmus, the voice sounded far away as an unusual drowsiness settled over him, worry about yourself first.  
  
he tried to argue, but the world was slipping away from him and he couldn't help but to let everything drift away...

-0-

For a week and a half, there was a routine to Beowulf's life. He would wake up sometime before noon, accept a meal of broth and water--his head would ring if he dared exert the pressure necessary to chew--and a cure spell before falling asleep again. Then he would be roused from sleep just before supper time, where he would receive yet another bowl of broth and a stronger spell before dropping off for the night. To the once-greviously injured man's credit, he was usually wide awake right after every meal and healing session, certainly awake enough to ask where his fiancé was. However, the white mages at Lionel castle town were not only trained in the spells of their job, but also certain time spells, such as the sleep spell Beowulf was getting to be on very good terms with. They claimed that plenty of sleep would aid his recovery, but he only had to get out a Re' before he felt soft hands on his forehead.  
  
He was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't supposed to ask where Reis was.  
  
What the first white mage--_Miss Scarlet Barkosu, the one with the bad bedside demeanor_, he catalogued--had told him was coming to pass. All the white mages who had treated him were as generous with their cure spells as they were with their sleep spells, and his chest was feeling much less compressed. It didn't even hurt to chew after a few days into his treatment. After a week, he could walk around his small room without getting winded, and after a week and a half his mind could focus enough to cast spells.  
  
Twelve days after the first time Beowulf fully regained consciousness, he was visited by Miss Barkosu. It wasn't a healing session, but rather a friendly visit. This was not particularly odd, especially since the woman had lent him a book only days before, when he'd asked her for something to pass the time. It was a compilation of Saint Ajora's most well-known speeches, and was therefore a wonderful practice aid for float spells. What was probably the odd part was how often she came to check up on him, or stayed just to keep him company. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought she rather liked him.  
  
Sir Kadmus? The straightforward white mage called just before she opened the door. May I come in?  
  
Hastily, Beowulf dispelled the enchantment he had placed on the book, which, subjected to the laws of gravity, plopped onto his lap. Taking one, two deep breaths to center himself, he smiled. Come in, Miss Barkosu, he said, then wondered why he'd bothered when she was already stepping into the room.  
  
Good afternoon, Sir Kadmus. She strode through the tiny room, pulling down the hood of her requisite robe and fluffing her long, dark hair out. How're you feeling? Any headaches, chest pains? Hm, still no sign of fever, she murmured as she placed her hand on his forehead. Beowulf tensed, having been subjected to one too many sleep spells from that action.  
  
That wouldn't do at all. It'd ruin his plan before he could even begin.  
  
Everything's fine, he said softly, smiling at her, thanks to you.  
  
Scarlet's dark eyes widened for a second before she looked away from his face. Really, it was due to the combined effort of all of us. You should save your thanks for everybody else.  
  
But you were the first one I saw when I first woke up, he countered gently, his eyes guileless as she glanced at them, I suppose that makes you the most important one...at least, in my mind, he hurriedly finished, noticing how her cheeks darkened just a little at his words.  
  
I see, she fidgeted slightly before favoring him with a small smile, if that's how you wish to think about it, I won't be the one to dissuade you.  
  
He smiled back, feeling sick about using the woman's emotions in such a way. Not only because he already had someone he loved, but it also reminded him too much of his old war buddy Coronada and the things that man would say just to get a woman into bed. But this manipulation was completely necessary for his plan, and if it worked he wouldn't even have to switch to the second phase of it.  
  
_But, you know_, a small voice whispered deep within his mind, _even if you think it's disgusting, you can't deny how good you are at it_.  
  
Scarlet...Miss Scarlet, he corrected as a look of surprise crossed her face at his familiarity, coolly calculating how keeping her off balance now would work for him in a minute, sorry, I'm bothering you. Here's your book, it was...enjoyable, watching it float around the room, he neglected to add.  
  
No--no, you weren't bothering me at all, I'm just... the brunette paused, a flicker of suspicion in her eyes for just a moment before it was doused by embarrassment, surprised, that's all.  
  
Beowulf allowed himself a small chuckle. Almost time... Because I liked the book?  
  
She laughed at this, completely at ease now. That has to be it.  
  
Now.  
  
You're a very kind woman, Miss Scarlet, at least, once she loosened up a bit, he noted, I really appreciate your lending me this book. Perhaps you could lend me some information now?  
  
Her eyes narrowed quickly, too quickly. I don't know what you're talking about, Sir Kadmus.  
  
There was a tug on his consciousness as the first tendrils of her sleep spell grasped his mind, but it was weaker than usual. He supposed it was due to his natural resistance to magic, or perhaps she was holding back. _I guess I'm not as charming as I thought I was_, he commented to himself, oddly pleased about that. Buoyed by this sudden good feeling, he calmly reached in with his own magical strength and simply plucked off each tendril of her spell, dispelling it quickly. I believe you know exactly what I'm talking about, High Mage Barkosu. Her proper title, befitting of the secondary leader of a group of Glabados white mages, rolled off his tongue.  
  
High Mage Barkosu, who only answered to one person in Lionel.  
  
The spell was back, this time in full force, but with an ease he never could quite show off on the battlefield, the Temple Knight undid this attempt as well. I don't know anything, Scarlet muttered, glaring at him in what was proving to be impotent rage.  
  
You work directly under Buremonda, you have to know something. Growing tired of both the subterfuge as well as her persistence with her sleep spell, he simply deflected her next spell and grabbed her wrist. Looking earnestly up at her, he mentally winced at the scowl that distorted her entire face. Please, Miss Barkosu, I just want to know where Reis is. Is she alright? At lea--  
  
The spell that assaulted his senses was unlike any he had ever felt before. It didn't permeate through his mind so much as it simply shut everything down. Beowulf, in the condition he was in, was no match for it. Just before he pitched forward, unconscious, he caught a glimmer of a magical signature, one strikingly familiar...one that he had read in another spell he had been subjected to in the recent past.  
  
Buremonda.

-0-

_Finely honed senses from the war alerted him to just how wrong this whole situation was just as a magical pulse strummed through his body. He tried to take a step forward, then move his arms, but nothing seemed to work.  
  
He couldn't move. But, why?  
  
The longtime knight could only watch as the form of his lover shifted, stretched, and finally fell away, leaving quite a different person in her stead.  
  
Buremonda.  
  
Dammit, Beowulf cursed to himself, how could I have walked into this so blindly?  
  
It was a question that he already knew the answer to. Buremonda was a lot of things, but he was also cunning and always suspicious. The priest could read a person's weakness just as well as he could read his sermon at the pulpit, and behind his gentle features was a mind finely tuned to brutal, sadistic tactics. Beowulf knew this, and he couldn't believe that he had neglected to watch out for himself as well as Reis. But a small part of him was still shocked that Buremonda had the audacity to lure him using her voice, her likeness.  
  
To lure him using his complete trust and love for her.  
  
Apparently, Buremonda was just as surprised, but about something slightly different. How could you let yourself be so easily tricked?  
  
As if he didn't know how effective she would be, Beowulf thought in a disgusted tone, allowing himself a moment of righteous anger before forcibly letting it pass and modulating his tone so that he appeared to be calm and in control. Perhaps it was because of what you tricked me with, he said, his mind scrambling through likely escape plans while ignoring why a trap of such magnitude was needed.  
  
He'd fought for a decade in the war. He wasn't going to let himself die in the one place he thought he'd find peace in.  
  
Distract him, Beowulf decided, keep that pompous fool talking and try to unlock each component of the web of spells he had set. Buremonda would talk. He was a priest. He was fond of hearing his own voice. To do all this...what are you planning? Letting a tiny bit of artificial fear into his tone, the Temple Knight could only smirk to himself when a small smile crossed that priest's face.  
  
Now, to work...  
  
_

-0-

It didn't hurt to wake up, and maybe that was the strangest thing of all.  
  
Oh, his head was still ringing ever so slightly and his ribs felt rearranged, but it didn't really hurt now. It could be worse, it _had_ been worse, and that was enough to make him feel grateful for the condition he was in now. He hadn't felt this well even when he'd tried to get answers to some of the more pressing questions that had been simmering in his mind. Then Buremonda had magically sucker-punched him, and now he felt almost as good as new.  
  
Questions on top of questions. Beowulf was getting very frustrated.  
  
There was a knock on his door. Come in, he called, not bothering to avert his gaze from the ceiling. Only after the door was opened did he glance over at his new visitor, mentally wincing when he saw who it was. Miss Barkosu...hello.  
  
She simply raised an eyebrow at his welcome. Cardinal Draclau wishes to speak with you at the castle. I'm here to escort you.  
  
_That's weird_, the Temple Knight mused,_ and Buremonda was willing to let one of his white mages go like this? Especially after the incident earlier... _I didn't realize the cardinal was back in town already, he said aloud, rising from the bed and walking over to her.  
  
She stiffened as he approached, the action not escaping his notice. He only arrived a few days ago. He's been wanting an audience with you, but our collective opinion was that it should wait until you were feeling better, she paused as they left the room, making their way to the front of the church, you are feeling better, I believe?  
  
he answered absently, something else on his mind, I want to apologize for my actions earlier. It's just--  
  
I wasn't lying, the white mage interrupted, glancing over at him when he showed surprise at her words, I honestly don't know anything. When I was summoned over to the library, I only saw you there. That's as much as any of us white mages know, really.  
  
_Ah, so I'll have to go to the source, then..._ Beowulf sighed to himself before turning his attention to the woman beside him. Once again, I apologize, the sincerity of his words were strong enough that the usually dour healer softened her expression as she nodded. In an almost companionable silence, the two emigrants to Lionel walked out of the church and over to the plain-looking castle beside it. Almost by reflex, the leader of the Lionel Holy Knights glanced over at the barracks, just to the other side of the castle, wondering how his men were doing. Did they know what had happened to him? Of course, not even Beowulf knew what exactly had happened to him, just the extent of the injuries he had received.  
  
What was going on here? He was very used to the secrets that the Church held. He was keeping a few of them himself, as per his position as one of the higher ranked Shrine Knights. These were secrets that he would carry with him to the grave, and he rather preferred it that way. Even if it meant that the people of Ivalice had to live in ignorance, it was still a comfortable bliss that even he, who'd never been a particularly religious person, was envious of. Then there were the secrets that only a few of the highest ranked priests knew, the secrets that he never wanted to be privy to. He'd inadvertently heard one of them years before, just before he received the job of a Temple Knight.  
  
Ajora was not the Holy Son.  
  
He didn't want to know any more than that, and at the time he had more important things to worry about, like what his job truly required of him. Besides, did it really matter anyway? The Glabados Church would survive, with or without a saint to venerate.  
  
There were always secrets, but Beowulf didn't like that this one had to do with himself and his still-unheard from fiancé. Maybe...maybe the cardinal knew something. He wasn't so hopeful about that, though.  
  
It was Buremonda he had to find if he wanted the truth.  
  
...Sir Kadmus? At the mention of his name, Beowulf looked around, blinking in surprise. He and Scarlet were already inside the castle; indeed, they were just before the grand doors leading to Cardinal Draclau's office. I have something that I feel I should tell you, the second leader of the white mages stared at him with piercing dark eyes.  
  
What is it? Beowulf asked politely, fervently hoping that it had nothing to do with any nascent feelings she may have held for him.  
  
When Priest Buremonda asked me to help him take you to our infirmary, she started, and he had to bend his head down next to hers in order to hear her words, I had noticed that there had been a hole in the skylight. Glass littered the ground below it, she turned her head slightly, her pensive expression aimed away from him, I didn't care for the little cataloger, but I didn't wish her harm either. I hope you find her, or whatever had happened to her.  
  
Beowulf smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Thank you, Miss Barkosu, he said, turning towards the office doors, I'm sure Reis would appreciate hearing that.  
  
_What had happened that day?_  
  
He couldn't remember. The concussion he had received from...whatever had happened was doing a remarkable job of hiding away that useful tidbit of knowledge. Perturbed at his inability to remember, the fact that it was a very important thing to remember, and the knowledge that he couldn't do anything about it for the moment, he opened the door. Cardinal Draclau was at his desk perusing through some papers, but he raised his head at Beowulf's arrival. Ah, Kadmus, I've been expecting you.  
  
_That's a nice way of saying that I'm late_. The thought was bitter as Beowulf's mind was still focused on his current failure. Forgive me, I've been...occupied, he managed to sound regretful about this, but at the moment he really couldn't care less. The older man raised an eyebrow at his subordinate's insincere tone.  
  
So I hear. Step forward. It was not a suggestion, and now it was Beowulf's turn to raise an eyebrow as he obeyed the command. Lately, I've heard a lot of things.  
  
Beowulf wasn't liking where this was going, and it had only just started. There have been a lot of things happening recently, Cardinal, he responded mildly.  
  
It certainly seems so. I arrive back from a long and rather bothersome trip throughout Ivalice, hoping to hear reports from my head priest, my head knight, and for my new recorder to make the necessary reports and file them away, the cardinal steepled his hands on the top of his sturdy desk and looked straight into brandy-colored eyes, instead, I hear from Buremonda that you had been injured and that Miss Dular had died.  
  
The last word shot straight into Beowulf's mind like a bullet, shattering all his thoughts save one. Dead? Reis can't possibly be dead!  
  
Alphons Draclau narrowed his eyes at Beowulf's shout. That was exactly what I had thought when I first heard the news. Indeed, he has yet to produce her body. But this leads to another thing he had told me, that of your relationship with Miss Dular.  
  
She's my fiancé, Beowulf said slowly, his mind still reeling from the news.  
  
That may be so, but Buremonda informed me that you were partial to making nightly visits to Miss Dular's room. No matter what you think of the Glabados faith, our churches are not either an inn or a brothel.  
  
The initial surprise melted into anger, and anger made the usually polite knight lacking in tact. And she's not a whore. What exactly is your point?  
  
Draclau said in a warning tone, you're overstepping yourself here.  
  
You'll forgive me if I don't care. The red of Beowulf's eyes seemed to darken, in tune with the pulse of indignation within him. You've just told me that Reis is dead, and now you're rebuking me for my actions when she was... His hands clenched painfully into fists at his sides. What's more important here, Cardinal? The reasons behind a young woman's death, one who was a ward of the Church at that, or some of the things she did when she was alive that don't agree with your morals?  
  
The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Draclau sighed. You are right. Perhaps you can help with the former, then. What do you remember from that day?  
  
_Dammit._ All I remember is going to the church that morning, around a quarter to seven or so, to meet with Reis. At his superior's questioning look, Beowulf inwardly sighed. This wasn't going to look good for him. I had a plan, which Reis had acquiesced to, where we would go to Zaland and get married.  
  
Why Zaland?  
  
Because Buremonda had planned to send Reis back to Murond, and I was hoping to take advantage of my good relationship with Head Diplomat Koizumi and house her there while I came back here. I was planning to quit and take her to Lesalia with me.  
  
Ah, you planned to protect her by embroiling the Church in an international debacle if they tried to take her back. You always were a good tactician. So, what went wrong?  
  
...As I approached the church, I heard Reis' voice. Exploring further, I encountered her in the library, but I was caught in an elaborate magical trap. She turned out to be an illusion, created by Buremonda... Beowulf paused, unable to go any further in his retelling. Draclau noticed the sudden stop in narration and motioned for the knight to go on. I'm sorry, Cardinal, I don't remember any more than that. I received a concussion, and...I can't remember, he finished lamely.  
  
There was a thoughtful look on the elderly man's face. Buremonda wants me to declare you a heretic, he paused at the horrified look on Beowulf's face, do you want me to?  
  
A heretic. The very thing Beowulf, and others like him, were sworn to extinguish from Ivalice. All the magic, the skills he had learned, the tactics he had employed...and if he said yes, he would be on the receiving end of it all. He would be hunted down and killed, so why was the cardinal asking this as if it were an...offer?  
  
A heretic has no ties to the Church.  
  
As soon as he realized that, Beowulf understood just what Draclau was offering him. A way out of the secrets and Church politics, a life as one neither bound by the amalgamation of troops at Bethla Garrison or the Shrine Knights. Freedom at its very basic for a person who had not experienced it since he was twelve years old.  
  
If he chose this, he would have no right to accuse Buremonda for any crimes the priest might have committed that day.  
  
If he ever remembered, it would be the word of a heretic against an esteemed priest of high rank. If he stayed with the Church and someday remembered, the resulting controversy would do much harm to both the relationship between the knights and the priests as well as the institution itself if it got out to the rest of Ivalice.  
  
If he ever remembered.  
  
If in his memories Buremonda had killed Reis, then he was the only voice of justice she had. He could do that much for her, couldn't he? He could stay in the Church long enough to bring her the justice she so deserved.  
  
If he ever remembered.  
  
Beowulf closed his eyes. Cardinal, if I agree, will a Temple Knight be hunting me down?  
  
Concussions were strange creatures. Short term memory loss was expected for awhile, maybe even long term memory loss if it was a bad case. As for the memory of the incident...maybe it could be recalled someday, maybe not. Though even a simple cure spell could get rid of the resulting headache, it could never get the memory back if it was lost.  
  
--_Beowulf, you're a wonderful person_--  
  
He couldn't forget that. He wouldn't forget that.  
  
He'd wanted to quit.  
  
No, Kadmus, you won't be hunted.  
  
Justice for her if he remembered. Continue murdering people for the Church if he didn't.  
  
Not being able to do anything for her if he remembered. Living a life of peace if he didn't.  
  
_Where's my better option here, Reis? Where? You were always so realistic in your outlook...I would've done anything for you, so...  
  
What would you like me to do, my love?_  
  
Out of all the memories of his relationship with Reis, one stood out clearly.  
  
--_That's what Sir Chiroseau told me: 'Even if you make a choice that no one can agree with, if you have a reason to make that choice, then the only judgment that holds any weight at all is God's.' I never really thought of that before, but I like the reasoning, that life is too short to really worry..._--  
  
Maybe it was a moment of cowardice that caused him to remember those words, the ones she'd said that inspired him to propose. Maybe it was a moment of mortality, that knowledge that he was just one person, and one person alone had a horrible record in history of actually getting anything done. Maybe it was a moment of faith in the Lord, that belief that God would always be there in the end, if not to intervene in the matters of humanity, then to punish the wicked in the afterlife.  
  
Whatever it was, it caused Beowulf Kadmus to open his eyes and look directly into his superior's as he calmly made his decision. I'll become a heretic.

-0-

Reis was dead.  
  
Reis was...dead.  
  
Somehow, this didn't sound right to Beowulf. This was Reis he was thinking of, after all. She was reserved and calm, but she'd always maintained a certain liveliness. Even while she slept, she certainly wasn't anything like the dead. She'd kicked him more times than he'd like to recall, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He smiled fondly when he thought of how she'd react to that. _She'd probably look up at me with those large caramel eyes, a serious expression on her face, and she'll say something like, Really? I didn't know that... She worries too much about everything, but she looks so cute when she does..._  
  
His smile tapered off when he realized that he never would have the chance to tell her. There were so many things he wanted her to see, so many things he wanted them to experience, so much of their lives to live together, so much...  
  
But Reis was dead.  
  
He stopped walking. Scarlet had hurriedly told him to go back to the church by himself, since she had been summoned to an emergency at the south end of town. This left him to plod back to the church while the evening quickly approached, his only company his increasingly morose thoughts. Shaking his head, he continued into the church, heading back into the small room he had been staying in for over a week already. Tonight was his last night there, though, as Cardinal Draclau had promised that a chocobo would be ready for him tomorrow morning.  
  
Heretics were unwelcome in Church-owned Lionel.  
  
_Wonderful, just wonderful_, he groused, more than a trace of bitterness in his thoughts, _I come here looking for a peaceful life from the war, and instead I'm turned into nothing more than a glorified assassin. Then, when I'm of no use, I'm all but thrown out of town. Wonderful, just bloody wonderful._  
  
A figure in white robes bustled from the church cafeteria to another room down the hall, and Beowulf's eyes widened when he saw this.  
  
Buremonda.  
  
Quickly the embittered knight followed, a sudden anger and disgust rolling in the pit of his stomach. Even if he had forfeited his right to publicly accuse the priest of any crimes, he figured he deserved some long-overdue answers. He stormed into the room Buremonda had disappeared into, which appeared to be an office with lit candles hung along the walls, loudly slamming the door shut behind him. There was a desk at the back end of the room, and this was where the priest stood, his back to the doorway. Beowulf spat out, the name sounding like nothing more than a foul curse.  
  
There was no reaction from the other man for a long moment, and Beowulf started to wonder if he had stepped into another trap. He took a step forward, but stopped as Buremonda turned around, slightly surprised at the older man's appearance. _He looks...tired_. Deep, dark circles gathered below bloodshot blue eyes, the face gaunt.  
  
_No...he looks broken._  
  
Is there something you require? Buremonda inquired, his tone indicating that he had no patience to spare for wayward heretics.  
  
It hadn't even been two minutes, and already Beowulf was more angry than he'd ever been in his life. Where's Reis? he demanded, taking another step forward.  
  
The look that the priest bestowed upon the knight was filled with pity. She's gone.  
  
Then, where's her body?  
  
If Miss Dular is gone, don't you think that she would've taken her body with her?  
  
That did it.  
  
Beowulf lunged forward, catching Buremonda in a vicious right hook that rocked the older man's head back. A loud crack filled the air, though whether it was the sound of the priest's nose or one of the knight's fingers breaking that was louder was unknown. With a deceptive burst of speed that was surprising in the normally mild-mannered man, Beowulf grabbed Buremonda's right arm and jerked the priest around, slamming him face down against the solid cherry desk. Do you think this is funny? the enraged man growled, using his superior weight to pin Buremonda down. The older man began to struggle, to which Beowulf simply yanked up the arm he was holding dangerously close to the breaking point. I don't mind breaking your arm or anything else in order to get some answers, he said calmly over Buremonda's wail of agony.  
  
To the highly-ranked priest's credit, he was still defiant, weaving together a spell with a mind clouded in pain. Of course you are, he mumbled into his desk, you knights are so fond of violence in order to get what you want!  
  
Tell that to Reis, you sanctimonious bastard! If Beowulf didn't think he could ever become more enraged than he already was, he was proven wrong. Something brushed past him, a magical essence emanating from Buremonda. Is that how you want to do this? Fine. An idea from the war came to the knight then, and he set a small amount of ice essence deep within the priest's belly, causing the magical essence to ebb from the air somewhat. If you want to use magic, let's use magic. Try to kill me and you won't live to enjoy it.  
  
...Is that so? Even with those haughty words, Buremonda knew he couldn't retaliate. He stopped weaving together the spell and glared at the top of his desk. Reis is gone. What more do you want?  
  
_I want her to be here with me!_  
  
I want to know what happened, Beowulf whispered.  
  
Buremonda closed his eyes. I tried to kill you. She got in the way. Dark eyes narrowing, the knight pulled up on the arm in his grasp. It's the truth!  
  
  
  
I...what do you remember?  
  
Beowulf pulled again, eliciting another cry from the priest. Let's not play games here. We both know how much you like to lie when you can get away with it, or should I remind you of all the ones you've told about me in the past?  
  
...I tricked you into entering the church library by enveloping myself in an illusion of Miss Dular. You were trapped in a multi-layered spell filled with almost every status effect I could think of...save poisoning and blinding your vision. I cast a spell that would've ensured your death...but then she jumped in the way! Buremonda paused, expecting another bolt of agony to run through his arm. When it didn't come, he sighed in barely hidden relief. That's the truth.  
  
That doesn't make any sense, Beowulf said aloud. Yes, Reis _would_ do something like that, but the timing seemed too perfect. His injuries didn't fit there as well, but he could only concentrate on what happened to Reis at the moment. Where was Reis?  
  
I placed a barrier spell on the doors, one based on the Zodiac. Only air signs could pass. She had been beyond the barrier, but somehow...she managed to break through.  
  
_Maybe that's because she's partly a dragon_, the knight considered, _there are a lot of things we don't know about her abilities..._ What happened to her body?  
  
Buremonda took in a deep breath. The spell I used was a Lucavi spell, one that would completely annihilate the human body.  
  
Never had Beowulf so wanted to kill another human being before. His beautiful Reis, with her slender, graceful body, her delicate smile, her shining eyes...all that...destroyed? All that, everything...  
  
Gone'. Annihilated'.  
  
Nausea began to roll in lazy but powerful waves, but Beowulf, with difficulty, managed to hold it off. Tell me... he began shakily, before regaining some of his righteous anger, prove it. Lying's second nature to you, so prove it!  
  
She was smiling.  
  
Sometimes the ears can't be believed.   
  
I saw her when I unleashed the spell, Buremonda choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears, she held up her arms over her eyes, but I could still see her lower face. I could see her lips twitch a bit, then she smiled. It was a wide smile. I saw this, his voice wavered, I still see it.  
  
Beowulf's eyes widened as her voice called out to him, as clear as if she'd been standing right next to him.  
  
--_Because I have the ability to...because I want to help you_--  
  
_It didn't mean you had to go that far, love. Not for my sake...I'm used to...I can take care of myself, so...why..._  
  
--_I want to share your burden_--  
  
Ever since he had met her, Beowulf had slowly understood how it felt to love someone deeply and without reservation. He'd grown to cherish just how strongly he felt for her, and he was sure enough of how he felt that he could tell anyone that he'd do anything for her, no hesitation whatsoever.  
  
At that moment, he understood what it meant for someone to feel exactly the same way towards him. Someone willing to sacrifice herself so that he could live on. She'd done it without hesitation, just like he would've claimed.  
  
She'd done it with a smile on her face.  
  
Slowly, Beowulf let go of Buremonda, still absorbing the shock of the priest's words. A word pulsed in his mind, in the rhythm of his growing headache. Hero. Hero. She was a hero, and she was the lucky one because of it.  
  
She wasn't the one left behind.  
  
The hot, heavy feeling of tears, of wanting to cry, surged through his throat, through his eyes. Taking several deep breaths, Beowulf turned around, facing the door. Are you happy now, Buremonda? he asked, his voice odd to his own ears. You thought you were in love with her, didn't you? That's why you tried to kill me. But now she's gone, and it's all your fault.  
  
I hope you always see her smiling face. Death couldn't come soon enough for you.  
  
Those words, Beowulf's curse, lingered in the air for three beats of the two men's hearts before the knight walked out of the room. Perhaps if he'd stayed for another heartbeat, he would've heard Buremonda whisper something louder than any mourning wail.  
  
You really don't remember, do you? I said she was gone. I said her human body had been annihilated. I didn't mean she was dead.  
  
Perhaps, but it was too late now.

-0-

It was a cold, barren December morning that saw Beowulf Kadmus, former Temple Knight and newly proclaimed heretic, at the north gate of Lionel castle town. It was just him and the promised chocobo. He'd briefly entertained the thought of seeing his men, of telling them of the recent events that had occurred, but something held him back. It wasn't just the fact that he was now a heretic and exiled from the town when he'd once been one of them, their cheerful and dedicated leader. Perhaps it had been because of the way many of them had talked about Reis near the end.  
  
He wasn't one to hold grudges, but with everything that had happened...  
  
He tied his one bag of possessions onto the compliant yellow chocobo. A chilly wind from the sea blew past, and he tightened the speckled brown scarf around his neck even more, consciously trying not to remember how it had been a gift from Reis. A birthday gift, even though they hadn't celebrated his birthday. He had asked to be left alone. He regretted that now.  
  
He regretted a lot of things now.  
  
Sir Kadmus, called a woman's voice, and he glumly turned around. It was Scarlet Barkosu, the white mage he was on not-so-good, not-so-bad terms with. She was carrying a piece of luggage, though she seemed to be struggling a bit with it. I was told to deliver this to you.  
  
He took the luggage from her, familiar with the medium-sized box but not quite so sure why. Turning away from her, he opened it and the first thing that hit upon his hazy memories was a blue stone.  
  
His heirloom.  
  
He closed the box. This is Reis' luggage. Why do I have to take it?  
  
What was he going to do with her things, now that she was gone?  
  
It was Priest Buremonda's orders, Sir Kadmus, said Scarlet, tugging at her hood as another wind swept by, he said that, as her fiancé, you gained ownership of her possessions.  
  
_Oh, so now I'm Reis' trustee._ Shaking his head slightly, Beowulf hoisted himself onto the giant bird, placing the luggage in front of him. Thank you, Miss Barkosu, he said, not turning around. He heard her footsteps as she walked away. Staring out past the gates at the rest of Ivalice, he sighed.  
  
_Where should I go now?_  
  
--_After you quit, let's go to Lesalia. I'm sure you'd like to return home, right?_--  
  
After a moment's consideration, Beowulf nodded. It was where they were originally going to go to, after they got married and he quit being a Temple Knight. Seeing as at least one of those things had occurred, he might as well go back to Lesalia. His sister would love to see him again, especially if he was planning on living there.  
  
And so, the decision made, Beowulf Kadmus urged the chocobo forward and began the long journey home.

-End of Within Holy Walls-

Alright, before I get lots and lots of angry people on my case, this obviously isn't the end'. Remember, WHW is about Reis, down to the title itself. I'm planning three short stories that I'm attaching to this story, aptly titled the _Those Left Behind _series. So please, don't hurt me.  
  
Um...wow. It's been nearly a year since this story first started--and believe me, by the time I finish the last story of the _Those Left Behind_ series, it _will_ be a year--and, well, I'm in shock about this story. Not counting my notes and replies to reviewers, this story takes up 793 pages according to my word processor. This is why I can't really blame anyone if they can't remember what happened in chapter 14 (Beowulf's past, and I did that by memory!) by chapter 19 (the invasion of Lionel castle town!). There are so many little things that I've put into this story, correlation of events in different chapters, things Reis or Beowulf said that they've changed about later on...man, did I really write this story?  
  
This story exceeded my wildest expectations. Can I say that so bluntly? At the time I was initially conceiving the idea of the story, I was a displaced writer. I wanted to find a game that I could sink my writing claws into for a long, long time. I desperately wanted to improve my first-person, present-tense style. I wanted to see if I had the dedication to writing to become a novelist. I wanted to find a character with tons of potential for development.  
  
I didn't want to write a romance story. That came later.  
  
I had owned FFT for a year before I started seriously playing. I kept dying at the first battle, see. (The whole L1, R1 to get your other characters didn't occur to me for awhile. Then it was Dorter. Damn you, Dorter!) But once I started to get the hang of the game (read: job-leveled like a...well, a lot), I grew to enjoy the story, and the characters...ah, there are some great characters! I met Beowulf and thought to myself, Um...why is he so attached to that dragon? Um...' Then I met Reis as a dragoner and thought, Oh.' The reason I started writing this story is detailed in the note for the first chapter, and somehow I've strayed away from that reason. Ah, you can't win them all.  
  
From the start, I knew that I'd have to focus on the relationship between Reis and Beowulf. I didn't want to write a complete love triangle with Buremonda as well, because...I don't care for romance in the first place, so why would I jump into something as melodramatic as a love triangle? Maybe the story failed for some people because of this inability of mine. Well, if it did, I'm sure they're not reading this note anyway. So, romance. I've done that before, but not to this degree. I'm disgusted with myself, but I'm really very happy that everyone's enjoyed that aspect of this story. Well, at least, the ones who reviewed. I'm even willing to write another one, to even this degree. Does this mean that I'm going to stray into the multitude--hah!--of fanon couples FFT has to offer?  
  
...Well...depends on the couple. Takes a lot for a fanon couple to justify themselves in my mind.  
  
I'm blathering now, so lemme just stop now. I want to thank everyone for reading WHW. I'm so happy that you've even considered this little story as something worth your time! I want to thank the reviewers for their time in writing out the often very long reviews that WHW has received. I appreciate the time spent in writing a review, considering that I'm often running around and reviewing stories myself. It's these reviews that make me want to try even harder to do my best, so thank you very much for them!  
  
I hope you all have enjoyed reading Within Holy Walls as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Laters--!


	34. TLB: Memoirs

Those Left Behind  
  
Story #1: Memoirs  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

_...I wonder if the people we call hypocrites' are really just people trying to find themselves, and they look bad because they just happen to contradict themselves a lot. _  
_-_Chapter 20

-0-

The files were everywhere in the small office; on the mahogany desk, in the various marked boxes stacked about, and along the perimeter of the square room. There were even some along the windowsill, resting precariously against the dusty window that often reluctantly let the sunlight trickle in. It was a room many people dared not enter during March through May, for fear of aggravating already sensitive allergies. It was a room of perfectly imbalanced stacks of paper, tomes, and other paper by-products, causing the building that housed it to fear constantly for this severe disregard to the basic don'ts' of fire prevention. Lastly, it was a room of knowledge, filled with the histories of centuries old institutions and the biographies of those long departed.  
  
If knowledge truly is power, then Alazlam J. Durai was the most powerful person in Ivalice.  
  
This room was situated in the history building of Gariland Magic Academy. Although the school maintained the strictness befitting one of the premier military academies in Ivalice, it was slowly changing into a place where the creme-de-la-creme of Ivalice's academia gathered to impart their knowledge onto the eager students who poured into the university every April. Professor Durai, who only worked part-time at Gariland, was one of these esteemed people, though he was often so buried in his research and other duties that he barely noticed the admiration from his contemporaries.  
  
He did notice the notoriety, though. He wasn't allowed on Murond land anymore, not since the release of his last book, _The Real Image of the Holy Ajora_, two years ago.  
  
It was nine in the morning on a beautiful April day and the chatter of the other history and social studies professors was filtered heavily by the thick door of the office. Alazlam could still hear some of the louder professors complaining about problem students. _Well, at least they don't have to worry about death threats from some of the more zealous of Glabados' tribe_, he thought to himself, idly glancing through a note on one of Ramza Beoulve's Zodiac Braves, a boy by the name of Mustadio Bunanza. The professor had been creating biographies of all the people involved in the Zodiac Brave Story of the Middle Ages, and some of the hardest ones to compile had been about the people aligned with Ramza. Those such as Cidolfas Orlandu, Agrias Oaks, and all of Ramza's friends from his cadet days were easier to verify due to their lack of connection to the Church or other factors. Others like Meliadoul Tingel, Mustadio Bunanza, Beowulf Kadmus, and Reis Dular were more difficult to create biographies for because of their involvement with the Church, or because they had simply lived in Lionel. In fact, Alazlam had nothing more than the names of the latter two braves, and that was because of the barest mention of them in Olan Durai's papers.  
  
So far, all of Alazlam's inquiries regarding those four had gone unanswered by the Church.  
  
There was a hurried knock at his door before it swung open, revealing a young woman struggling to hold the large box in her arms. She managed to take a few steps before valiantly losing the battle of the grip, and all the files in the room shook ominously when the box landed. The woman, with the long black hair and hazel-green eyes characteristic of those whose parentage hailed from both Ivalice and the Eastern Lands, had the grace to look embarrassed. The Lionel shipment, she stated as a way of explanation.  
  
Alazlam nearly smiled. From the Koizumi Foundation, or the Church?  
  
The Church, for once. Besides, the Foundation wouldn't be so cruel as to let one of their heirs carry a box full of heavy files from the admissions office, the young woman sighed. Do you want me to file it away...somewhere? she asked, sending a discriminatory glance around the cluttered room.  
  
No, if it's the Church's files for once, I want to take a thorough look at it. They might've sent materials from the wrong period again. The professor tugged on the end of his out-of-date beard, eyes closed as his mind sorted through all the incidents with getting the Church's files since he began work on the Zodiac Brave Story of the Middle Ages. The woman, used to this, turned to leave, Oh, Rina, could you get me a cup of tea?  
  
Rina Koizumi frowned. I'm a graduate student, not a secretary, she muttered as she left. At that, the professor fully smiled. He had four graduate students helping him with verifying and researching the Durai Report, and she'd been the first assistant for his latest book. A couple months ago he'd asked the Koizumi Foundation, created for immigration and record purposes during the Middle Ages, for their files from the duration of the Lion War. They readily gave him their records as well as an assistant in the form of one of the group's heirs. It seemed the Foundation was very willing to help anyone who could throw off the Church's death hold on Lionel, specifically Zaland Fort City, where the headquarters of the Foundation was located.  
  
Alazlam stretched in his chair before standing up, old bones protesting any sudden movement. If it hadn't been for his age steadily creeping up on him, he would've still been primarily an archeologist. He winced, walking over to the box that had been left by his assistant, and gingerly crouched down beside it. Picking up the first thing that caught his eye, a leather-bound book of medium size, he opened it and flipped to the last used page.  
  
_I am very afraid now. Although there is still the wish inside my heart that the Church will rise above the power of the aristocrats and bestow the freedom that the people truly deserve, I know it to be nothing more than a wish. Having used the Lucavi spell years prior, I understand fully that the Zodiac Stones are not as blessed as we would believe them to be. She used it, and the spell's composition changed. This would not be possible unless Lucavi and the Zodiac Stones are compatible, for if the stone had been holy, my spell would have been dispelled. Instead, my beloved Reis still changed, transforming into a beast of extraordinary power.  
  
I did not know there was such a monster within her. Even after all this time, I still cannot believe it.  
  
My only hope now is that Beowulf Kadmus has continued to keep the Aquarius stone far away from the Church. It was certainly a gamble that had paid off. I know it will take at least six of twelve to summon the most unholy evil upon Ivalice again, and I know of at least four stones possessed by the Church, including the Scorpio stone that has the cardinal under its thrall...  
  
_Alazlam Durai paled as he read the passage, his heart beating erratically with excitement. This was the very thing he'd been wanting, knowledge of the relationship between the Church and the Zodiac Stones before the Lion War, as well as information on the two braves that had nothing more than names to them. With trembling fingers, he flipped through the brittle pages to the first page. He wanted a name to this long dead helper, and weary eyes found that name on the back of the front cover to the journal.  
  
_Property of Verden Buremonda._

-0-

_(Yuriel Village, Zeltennia; Pantora 25, November 26th)  
  
I hate them. They're all a bunch of murderers and thieves, and yet to speak out against them is treason! Some of the Nanten came by the orphanage again today, asking Priest Tenicilli if there were any young boys available to throw into the military. I'm the only one old enough now, since I'm now ten, and Priest Tenicilli told them to leave and to stop waging war on their fellow humans. They didn't repent, but they did threaten him. He's a brave man. I couldn't say anything like that, not when they came to my house and demanded for my father and Eurick and all our money to support the war effort. My father was brave, but then they killed him so I guess bravery doesn't count for much in this world.  
  
Priest Tenicilli said that bravery does matter in Heaven, because God judges your inner worth, but Father's still dead. Priest Tenicilli showed me the passage where the Holy Saint Ajora told us that God only watches, that humans have free will. I think that if God were walking around like us peasants and saw the evils of the nobles and the knights, He'd be very sad that He gave us freedom. I don't know why we're at war, but I bet it's because of the nobles and the knights. They think that, since God is just watching, they can do whatever they like.  
  
They're all horrible people._  
  
...Professor Durai, what are you doing on the floor?  
  
Alazlam glanced up from the page, looking right into the concerned eyes of one of the full-time professors of the history department. Is there something I can do for you, Professor Parge? This was asked in a kind enough tone, though there was enough of an edge to make the middle-aged woman furrow her brow.  
  
I was worried that your hip may have given out, which would explain why you're on the floor, she sighed, but I suppose everyone has their eccentricities.  
  
I'm fine, he said. She didn't look very reassured at this, so he slowly stood up with the journal in his hands, leaning against his desk as his knees wobbled slightly, I was just engrossed in a journal from the Fifty Year War.  
  
As a fellow historian, the woman could personally relate to any feelings of engrossment. Her eyes lit up with excitement. I see. A new account? From what sort of person?  
  
Alazlam inwardly sighed. Mention something about history and all his associates could literally hold a discussion for days. Yes, from a priest who spent his childhood in Zeltennia.  
  
Hm, surprising he wasn't drafted--or dragged--into the Nanten, then. And where did he go after that?  
  
Durai started good-naturedly, I haven't gotten that far yet. I only received this box from Lionel this morning.  
  
She appeared crestfallen, but then collected herself and nodded. I understand. Once you do finish it, everyone would love to hear about it. That time period...there's something so brutal, and yet so fascinating about it all.  
  
_...If I don't get away soon, she'll cajole me into lending it to her. That woman never returns anything._ I'd like to talk, but I have a class at one I need to prepare for now, and he was happy when she got the hint and walked out of his office, tittering about how incredible wars were. He supposed he could understand her feelings somewhat; after all, Ivalice had been enjoying nearly one hundred years of peace. It was a rarity. The last lengthy time of peace was during King Hyral I's reign. Ivalice was just a country happily accustomed to warfare.  
  
--_They're all horrible people_--  
  
Alazlam was sure that the priest whose journal he was reading now would've surely agreed.

-0-

Once a person finds an item of interest, they tend to plan their life around it until it is either finished or until all interest in it has been exhausted. Alazlam J. Durai, having had occupations in the past and present that required an insurmontable amount of patience, tended to favor the former. However, as he also had a life, adjustments were necessary.  
  
In the morning he would dutifully catalogue the Lionel shipment by himself, just like he assured his assistants he would. It wasn't much of a surprise when he reached the bottom of the box and realized that there was nothing else of use to his research. However, he did find a ten gil coin. Considering the age of the coin, as well as all the inflation that happened throughout the centuries, he could now buy a round of drinks for everyone who worked and loitered around the history building. His colleagues had been much happier with him after that night, even though word of the priest's journal and how he had been hoarding it had spread through the department.  
  
During the afternoon he would teach a variety of history courses, mostly to those specifically studying archaeology. That course of study had been his favorite, and even though he was content in exposing the truth instead of exposing artifacts, he still longed to one day return to the sites he had explored in his youth. Hands-on work had been his raison d'etere, even in places like Zeklaus and Bed Deserts. Then his age began to creep up upon him, and he began to focus on theology and history. He wrote about the Church, angering the weakened institution.  
  
It took years, but the Glabados Church of Murond finally released the Durai Report a few months ago.  
  
Now, the truth was more important than artifacts. Alazlam honestly believed that Olan had wanted him to reach this point and, as the direct descendant of that great man, he had to find out everything that had happened four hundred years before. So, during the evening, with the help of a dusty lantern occupying a scant space on the crowded desk, the knowledgeable man read the journal of the priest who had witnessed the power of the Zodiac Stone and the plots of the Church.  
  
There was something about this routine that Alazlam rather enjoyed, and so he never skipped a page of the journal, even through the monotonous regurgitations of Ajora's name and of the teachings to become a priest in a Zeltennia increasingly choked off by famine and war. Then there was a summons to Bervenia, then to Lionel.  
  
Then there was a trip to Murond, to receive the blessing of a higher rank from High Priest Funeral himself.

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 42 982, March 20th)  
  
Although I have been back in Lionel for a week already, I cannot seem to easily slip back into my routine once again. I keep picturing her, lovely Reis Dular, and suddenly my work is secondary to that lone memory. I cannot help it! Those delicate, petal-soft features of her calmly-arranged face, that slender figure...it is as if she had truly descended from Heaven and chosen to work at the main church of our Savior in order to further the Lord's cause. That she is only sixteen and such a prodigy only lends weight to this belief.  
  
Even now, I wish I had chosen a different path. Why did I not approach her? Why could I so easily heed the words of a contemporary? With that royal bearing and steady gaze, no one would dare turn away from her. If only I hadn't regarded that man's words and talked to her...of course, I had nothing to talk to her about, but I would've liked to hear her voice. I am sure it is as beautiful as the rest of her...  
  
These feelings...they're merely admiration. I am certain of it. That is why I should've talked to her...so why did I comply?  
  
If only I could see her again._  
  
Alazlam was bored.  
  
Ever since the priest had traveled to Murond and caught a glimpse of Reis Dular, there was nothing on the pages of his journal but compliments upon glowing compliments about the girl. The historian had a wife and two children back in his native Limberry, so he was no stranger to the idea of romance. It was the rampant hyperbole that was getting to him. The only thing that he didn't mind at this point was that, whatever the priest had learned about Reis, he wrote it in his journal. There were comments on how she was found at Bariaus Hill as an orphan, the studies she had been subjected to at Murond, and her apparent ability to intuitively understand languages. It was all very nice information for the biography Professor Durai had already started on her.  
  
_But still_, he sighed to himself as one of his assistants left after joking about Priest Buremonda's unrealized skill as a troubadour,_ that priest's scribbled pinings over a woman who didn't even realize he existed is really starting to get on my nerves_.  
  
Finding the truth always hinged upon what one was willing to sacrifice. Olan Durai had suffered numerous agonies before finally dying at the stake. His descendant might've lost his sanity...if not for two interesting entries.

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 44/ 984, September 7th)  
  
Today I received correspondence from Priest Ceren of Murond regarding the transfer of Reis from Murond to Lionel. As expected, he seemed hesitant on doing this out of good faith. He wants something, I know that much, but he does not want it as much as I want her here. At least, not yet. I have heard that he has some interesting activities on the mainland, in Dorter to be precise, and I will try and confirm if those rumors are true before trying again. It will be worth it in the end.  
  
Examiner Draclau has been in good spirits lately. He is awaiting the arrival of a newly-adorned Temple Knight, one who goes by the name of Kadmus'. I do not understand why, considering that there is already one Shrine Knight in every large town in Lionel, nor do I understand why that name is familiar to me. I suppose it will keep for now. I already dislike the idea of his arrival, considering we have far too many knights who do nothing but eat up the monied resources of this region with nothing to show for it but laziness. It is always the same for knights, whether they are at war or at peace. If only there were no more knights, there would be no more illogical fighting and killing. Until then, even the Church must employ these boors.  
  
I have been thinking of traveling to Zeltennia this year. It has been too long since I last visited my home village. Although my parents and my brother no longer have their corporal bodies, nor do they even have graves, I would still like to go home and remember them. I am sure the examiner will not let me; after all, much of Zeltennia has been taken over by the Ordalians, but it is a wish.  
  
Sooner or later, if the Lord and the Holy Son will it so, I will make all my wishes a reality._

-0-

What a poor man, Rina said sympathetically as she listened to Alazlam's mild voice read the passage, I'm sure that in that time, everyone had wishes they couldn't fulfill. It's such a sad state of affairs, war is. Don't you think so, Professor?  
  
It's only natural, he noted as he stroked his beard, turning the page and raising an eyebrow as a name caught his eye. 'Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 44...'

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 44 984, September 25th)  
  
I am starting to believe that, even if Examiner Draclau is sincere in his belief in the Glabados faith, he will never lose that irritating loyalty to the knights. To make matters worse, this Beowulf Kadmus is of noble blood, a child that the Examiner is placing as the head of all the knights in Lionel! When in private, I expressed my reservations to the Examiner, and he merely laughed them away. That boy', as you persist in calling him, is actually turning twenty-five in a week,' he had stated. Alright, so he is four years my junior, except that he looks as if he were ten years younger. Even if he has experience in the war...well, does that not make things worse? A child who has spent his formative years learning the craft of bloodshed and death is not someone who would fit well in this peaceful haven of supplicants and the devout.  
  
Once I mulled on it for a bit, I now realize where I had remembered this Beowulf from. It was back in Bervenia during the late thirties, shortly before I left for Lionel. Back in those days, there was a troop that was allowed in the town, ostensibly helping to protect the town and disrupt the Ordalian forces, which had already embedded themselves in northern Limberry by then. That troop caused a lot of ruckus in peaceful Bervenia, and young Beowulf was often at the heart of it. I remember seeing him often around town with a few young women, physically closer to a particular short-haired girl than decency proscribes. Once I saw him today, I knew it was him immediately. It was those eyes, the same color as drying blood. How appropriate.  
  
I will make sure to warn the white mages of his attentions. It is all I can do while Examiner Draclau remains deaf to my wisdom._

-0-

The bicultural woman paused in the middle of filing away some records. Someone thinks he's high and mighty, she commented, rolling her hazel eyes in derision.  
  
Apparently so, Alazlam said in a noncommittal tone, but you must remember, this priest had a very hard life due to the nobles and the knights. He was a commoner, remember?  
  
_We_ are commoners, but we don't let that define us, Rina retorted.  
  
The elder man sighed. Those times were different.  
  
It is always different, she returned, shaking her head. This priest only saw labels. Funny that he couldn't see that Sir Kadmus was going to become a vaunted Zodiac Brave in a mere ten or so years.  
  
_As well as that angel' he always goes on about_, the historian thought, _so then, what did Priest Buremonda see?  
  
_

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 46/ 986, May 12th)  
  
Life is about to become a lot more busy, which is something I always welcome. Examiner Draclau has been chosen by the High Priest to receive his confirmation as a cardinal. This comes a month after Cardinal Rican's death due to illness. Murond is moving faster than usual, which seems slightly odd. Although the ceremony for confirmation is traditionally held in Murond, the examiner wants it held in Bervenia. The High Priest allowed this, which only serves to confuse me even more. So, Examiner Draclau will be leaving in March, because he wants to travel around Ivalice and help those in need before the ceremony in November. Certainly, this makes little sense to me, but I will trust that things will turn out for the best.  
  
Examiner Draclau asked myself and Kadmus to join him for an informal breakfast today, in which he told us that we will share duties in taking care of Lionel while he is away. All decisions will be jointly made when it concerns Lionel expenses. Personally, as long as that boy stays out of my business, things will go much more smoothly.  
  
The library could use a cataloger, but the examiner thinks differently. I shall begin a new correspondence to Priest Ceren, as I hear there have been interesting developments in Dorter lately._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 46/ 986, May 24th)  
  
It is interesting the secrets people hold, as well as how some people respond to power. Priest Ceren has agreed to work on his end in regards to transferring Reis, in exchange for a sum of money to be sent to a certain lady's house in Dorter. Once the examiner leaves, it would be easy enough to appropriate the amount from the yearly portion set aside for the upkeep of the knights. Strange how Priest Ceren couldn't think to do the same with Murond's finances, but I appreciate his inability to do so. I will also prepare the paperwork necessary for legitimate transfer in the examiner's name. All I will need to do after all this is to have Kadmus' agreement over Reis' salary--a mere pittance, which I plan on changing--and that will be it. Oh, I nearly forgot that I will need to find a way to prevent anyone from sullying Reis' innocence...I have a few ideas on how to handle that, of course.  
  
Finally...finally I will have the chance to hear her voice._  
  
Professor Durai placed his bookmark--a colorful piece of artwork created by his daughter--inside the journal and leaned back in his chair. It was almost May, and the birds were as melodious this morning as the sun was bright. It would be a nice day to hold a dig in Gallionne, and Alazlam momentarily wished that he was doing that instead of uncovering just how corrupt church officials were even generations before. From writing his previous books he had learned of how corrupt the Church could be, but to read a first-hand account of a priest willing to embezzle money to send to another priest's mistress in order to circumvent the bureaucracy of the Church...  
  
It was all a little too much to absorb at once.  
  
_Even if he loved that woman, why didn't he at least consider the moral consequences of his actions?_ Alazlam couldn't help but ponder this, closing his eyes for optimal thinking. _He never even lamented his decisions...at least, not on paper, not yet. All he cares about is what he wants..._  
  
It worried the calm-minded historian, it honestly did. The journal was over four hundred years old, written during a time that he constantly researched but never understood. It was a time long passed over. And yet, he couldn't help but worry.  
  
What could happen, what had happened to the priest and the two Zodiac Braves...it worried him deeply.

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, April 2nd)  
  
Today Reis Dular arrived. It is a wonderful day, and yet there were still events that marred its perfection. First of all, Kadmus could not be bothered to go and wait for her at Bariaus Valley at the appropriate time, which worried me immensely because of all the monsters that roam that area. Secondly, while he did manage to bring her to the church safely, I came upon them while they were holding hands. She was wrapped up in his cape as well. I had warned him that I would not stand for the casual ways he is undoubtedly used to treating women of lesser morals with, but naturally I should not have expected him to listen to me.  
  
Reis is such a kind, polite woman, just like I have always imagined her to be. Her voice is low and soft, mellow without a dreary monotone, her inflection impeccable. Truly, she is the pinnacle of what the Church can offer to the so-called commoners. No noble could ever reach her level, not even the king and queen themselves. I am looking forward to helping her get settled into her new job. Priest Ceren could not make it so that she would be transferred as a cataloger, only as a temporary translator, but this is fine. She will simply take over the tomes that I have been translating.  
  
As long as she stays, it is more than fine._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, April 3rd)  
  
Today was Reis' first day of work. She is such a dedicated worker! I actually had to give her a break because she never gave herself one, not even for food. It is difficult to believe that I could respect her even more than I already have through reading her accomplishments, but the woman herself is such a remarkable creature that I am pleased to grant her all the respect she deserves. She is very thoughtful and intelligent, though that worried me slightly when she expressed an interest in the belief systems of other faiths. I had simply never thought about faiths other than the Glabados one, for good reason, so it made me uneasy to think that Reis could potentially become a heathen--which of course she'd never become.  
  
Beauty, intelligence, and such a kind disposition...she is truly the epitome of womanhood!_  
  
I want to be the epitome of womanhood, a tall blonde said, smirking as she dug through some files in a corner of Professor Durai's office, is there an application I can fill out for the position? I need to pay for this year's tuition.  
  
Sienne, are you really that bad off? I'll loan you some gil if you want, this new speaker, a young man with dark brown hair, coughed as a giant cloud of dust attacked him when he removed a box to get some files that had fallen between the wall and the boxes. Professor Durai, have you ever considered moving these boxes to a storage closet or something?  
  
The professor smiled behind the journal as he turned the page. Arrick, this office used to be a closet, if I remember correctly. Now, which one of you can answer this: Name three other faiths in Ivalice at the time of this priest's life?  
  
Sienne Rienthal, a native of Fovoham who was majoring in archaeology, shrugged at this. She was an admittedly poor student. I guess one of them would've been whatever the Easterners practiced.  
  
That's a trick question, Arrick Eiel managed to get out before he sneezed. Being a noble from Lesalia who only attended at Gariland for their theology studies, the concept of dust was new to him. All Ni'iejin had to renounce any belief systems and accept the Glabados faith before they were even allowed to enter Ivalice. There was only the Glabados belief officially, and maybe the tiny cult or two that managed to elude the Shrine Knights.  
  
Sienne turned around partially to stare at her fellow assistant.   
  
What Rina looks like, he clarified while digging out a file.  
  
Ah. Right.  
  
Alazlam chuckled. Sienne, after you find the records of the Galthana siblings, you can go study. I need assistants that can still pull their weight in their classes. The woman grumbled something under her breath, but the professor was used to this and ignored her. Arrick, I need you to go to Lesalia this weekend and pick up some files I asked for at the government's records office.  
  
Arrick muttered while fishing out the last file, thought we already had all the known files on Agrias Oaks.  
  
Yes, but according to this journal Beowulf Kadmus is a noble, just like her. If one noble comes from Lesalia, who's to say that another one wouldn't?

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, June 8th)  
  
Today I nearly compromised my morals. I could not help it, God forgive me. Reis has been tutoring Vormav Tingel's son, Izlude I believe, as well as doing her own job. I admire her diligence, although I cannot see why she bothers with the child. It just must be her innate kindness at work. With all those burdens on her shoulders, it is not a surprise at all that she has been tired as of late. When we were talking today, she seemed so delicate, almost fragile, and I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to touch her. She has remarkably soft skin, and the way she was looking at me, with such an enthralling gaze through half-lidded eyes...  
  
I wanted to kiss her.  
  
This is quite the problem. I admire her greatly. It is only admiration, of course. I cannot possibly have such base feelings like lust. After all, I am a priest. I feel such abnormally strong feelings for her, but I cannot let my feelings warp and darken. They must remain pure, just like she is. I almost wanted to blame her, but that would be the cruelest thing I could ever inflict upon her. She has not done anything I did not want, she has been almost too good, too kind.  
  
She is an immaculate angel. I will do whatever it takes to make sure my base desires do not harm her in any way._  
  
The slightly chubby man shook his head after Alazlam finished the passage. I've never heard a guy beat himself up so badly just because he liked a girl.  
  
That's because you're not a priest, Petel. The professor glanced at his oldest assistant, who was finishing up his graduate studies in Ancient Ivalician. How was Lionel?  
  
Goug's the same as always, loud and always smelling of smoke, Petel Isken said, scratching the back of his black-haired head. You're still hated everywhere else in Lionel, Professor. Thought you'd like to know that.  
  
  
  
Yeah, I didn't tell anyone I was your assistant. Rina's getting her great-great-great...you know, her grand-aunt Chieko's journal at Zaland...but you already knew that, right?  
  
The elder of the two men shook his head wearily. When I'm not reading this journal, I'm preparing for classes. I'm getting ready for the summer break so I can see my family again.  
  
That's not until mid-July, though.  
  
It's wishful thinking, my boy. Did Rina tell you why she was doing that?  
  
The heavyset man shrugged easily. There's mentions of the braves in there. She figured there'd be something about those two you're researching about right now.  
  
Ah, thank you, Alazlam leaned back, easing old bones into the not-uncomfortable chair. He looked up to see that Petel was still standing in front of his desk and asked, Something else you needed to tell me?  
  
Er, yeah, Petel smirked, the dean wants you in her office in ten minutes. Something about canceling a lot of classes lately?  
  
The part-time professor mentally noted to find his earplugs before he left his office. Rachelle Daravon was infamous for her marathon lectures.

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, July 18th)  
  
I should have known. He is nothing more than a scoundrel, I knew that much, but all the same I honestly believed that I had caused him to think twice about corrupting the white mages and Reis. Especially Reis. But he is a noble and a knight, the worst possible combination in his world, so I should have known that he would try to take Reis into his clutches.  
  
There was a ball on Friday night to appease the nobles who have escaped to this town. It is barely of any consequence to me. But when Carmine arrived this morning with a strange collar-like item that she had found outside Reis' door on Saturday morning, I was immediately concerned. I have noticed Reis' odd penchant for wearing clothes that are less than desirable for a church setting, but I did not mind setting that aside. They are...more than fitting on her slender body. But articles of clothing outside her door? Then after the sermon this morning, a few of the more devout nobles approached me to talk about the ball. One of them mentioned a beautiful young woman that appeared with Beowulf Kadmus. He said that she was from Limberry, but I remember that Reis is accomplished at all forms of the language, including dialects.  
  
I was set on confronting her today, but she seemed so scared when she saw the collar in my hands that I knew that it was not her fault. She had been forced into it, I am sure. Just like that mark on her neck, the one that looks like a slight bruise. That knight means to do these wicked things to her, and all she can do is take it because she is so innocent. My poor angel. I have been neglecting her safety lately. I will confront that knight tomorrow and make certain that he does not continue these advances._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, July 19th)  
  
If I had ever doubted that knights are the most insufferable, irritating and ignorant kind of human in the world, today would serve to show how truly right I had been in the first place. First, he had been late by over forty minutes. Second, he was very obviously tuning out everything I had said, in such a way that was nothing short of insulting. Third, after I had finished explaining to him why he should leave Reis alone, he responded in a rude tone, Are you done? Great. Here's some advice for you: Stay the hell out of my life. I don't need to hear your self-righteous lectures right now,' and left.  
  
They always run away.  
  
I have been thinking about this. In the face of a threat like him, I should send Reis back to Murond. She will be safe there, away from predators like him. But I have worked so hard at bringing her here in the first place. I need her here with me. I am risking her, and I should not, but I need her.  
  
I will protect her from that knight. This I swear on the love I have for the Lord and the Holy Son._  
  
_How sad_, Alazlam couldn't help but think as he placed his bookmark in the journal, closing the book and placing it on his desk, _how sad indeed._  
  
The historian was a logical person, capable of creating sound explanations from the barest silvers of information. Even from through the priest's own words, he could tell that the two Zodiac Braves had started a relationship. Priest Buremonda hadn't been able to see it, so blinded by both his love and hatred of what the two had represented to him, but even his own words belied his ignorance.  
  
_But then, how long do our self-created illusions last?_

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, August 23rd)  
  
It has been a horrible day.  
  
This town was invaded by monsters, of all things. Today is the holiest of holy days, the birthday of the Holy Son, the Blessed Saint Himself, and the town was invaded by monsters and one mediator, if that knight is to be believed. On this holiest of days, he let Reis get injured. He left her to the mercy of dragons, beasts of death and destruction.  
  
I will never forgive him.  
  
What are these knights useful for? There were no casualties because everyone was in church, thank the Heavenly Father. The few injuries that occurred happened to those worthless knights and Reis. Homes are damaged, there are the bodies of slain monsters littering the town...that is all they have to show for this day. Damages and death and the blood streaking through Reis' golden hair.  
  
This should not have ever occurred. There are knights strewn all across Lionel, and the one type of person they are supposed to be looking out for, a terrorist who would attack on a holy day, slips through the large cracks that make up Lionel's defense. If they are going to let a war continue throughout our country, then the least they could do is protect the defenseless, those who never wanted to start a war in the first place.  
  
Wounds heal, but at the rate Ivalice is torn apart again and again by mindless warfare, the sooner there will no longer be a country to wound._  
  
The two occupants of the small office were silent for awhile after the last passage had been read out loud. Finally, Rina Koizumi spoke. What a selfish bastard, she said slowly, brows furrowing as she shook her head, does he honestly think that knights _like_ constantly risking their life for ungrateful jerks like that guy?  
  
The slightly more reasonable Alazlam lowered the book onto the messy desk. Rina, you must understand...this priest had his father killed and his brother dragged into war by the Nanten, his home's own honorable military force, when he wasn't even ten. It's logical to assume that he would have such an...exaggerated mistrust of knights.  
  
'Exaggerated' is right, Professor, the young woman shook her head again, adjusting her hold on a large book, there's a point in everybody's lives when they just have to stop blaming other people for things that just happened. Besides, he's the one who took money from the Lionel Holy Knights to begin with, so he's a hypocrite if he then complains that they're not doing enough.  
  
Human nature calls for people to blame others first, instead of examining themselves. Alazlam glanced at the book in Rina's hands. What's that?  
  
Many-greats grand-aunt Chieko's journal, she smiled when her professor raised an eyebrow at that. She had a keen ear for conversation, and diligently strove to write them in Ni'iego and Ivalician. She had some interesting things about Reis in here, from what I can read. Four hundred years sure can change a language.  
  
Alazlam could relate. Reading Priest Buremonda's journal, particularly with the Zeltennian style of writing prominent throughout the book, was very tiresome. Certainly his own heritage ran from Limberry to Zeltennia, but he still went cross-eyed if he read too many pages of the journal at once. About Reis? What about Beowulf?  
  
She smiled thinly. There are many rumors regarding why Chieko never married. Certainly it was true that she cared less for men than she did for other pursuits.  
  
Her singing career?  
  
Who's to say? She certainly can't now. Rina looked at the nearly overwhelmed desk with a jaundiced eye. I want to let you borrow this, but you must promise me that, if this room ever gets set ablaze, you will save the book before yourself. I was only allowed to take this out on my own honor.  
  
_Wonderful._ The historian was less than pleased, but he motioned for her to place it to one of the smaller stacks of paper on his desk while simultaneously glancing at the next entry in the priest's journal and seeing more of the same vitriol being spewed onto the pages.  
  
_Wonderful._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, September 17th)  
  
Today, Reis and I had a nice discussion. I realized something during it. The more I feel compelled to do things to allow us to stay close, the more I find that Reis is quite...different than from when I first saw her all those years ago. She was an unknown entity then, someone far away, someone safe from my base urges. She was an angel, not just a mere woman, but rather someone that I could truly admire.  
  
Bit by bit, she has changed.  
  
I saw it as she changed. There were those clothes, the nearly scandalous ones that I allowed because they appealed to my lust. There have been the slight attitude adjustments, the ease in which she softly murmurs falsehoods and gentle deceptions, but I accept them because they are from a person whose voice seduces me with ease. She can narrow her eyes in anger, throw a bland look on her face when she disapproves of what I say, she can do a million things that are wholly human and should shatter my image of her as a perfect, shining angel.  
  
But then I remember that there was another with her the entire time she has made Lionel her home. I remember her wrapped up in his cape, in his influence, the first time she laid eyes on me. Perhaps they were never really her' eyes to start with. Perhaps she has always been seduced by him.  
  
Perhaps I could've never saved her, protected her in the first place.  
  
I cannot waver in my diligence, though. I can see the glimmer of trueness, that holy presence that drew me to her in the first place. So, while he tries his best to tear down her purity, I will be right beside her to remind her of the proper path, her true path.  
  
I will do anything to make sure she reaches it._  
  
Sienne was the first to speak. Well, that's only slightly creepy. Kinda like my last boyfriend.  
  
There are men that obsessed about purity' in this day and age? Rina wanted to know. Arrick and Petel just looked at each other before deciding not to answer that question.  
  
Alazlam sighed. Do any of you have an opinion with actual merit? Slightly creepy' isn't one, by the way.  
  
The guy's got a twisted view on the relationships between men and women, Petel offered after a moment of silence, it seems that he thinks that men are only out to seduce young women from God's clutches as well as believing that women are completely pure, innocent creatures.  
  
I guess someone always has to be held in the highest standards while someone else has to be dragged through the muck, Arrick commented, true equality's just a dream.  
  
Yeah, true, Sienne nodded slowly, I kinda feel sorry for that guy, though. It's like he thinks he could hurt her cause he's a man, so he tries too hard to adhere to his label instead.  
  
Rina scowled. It's his own fault in the first place. He's just unhappy that some other guy who's all the things he despises has taken the girl of his dreams away from him. He can cover it up with the whole good priest, bad knight' thing as much as he wants, but in reality I bet he knows that he lost out from the very beginning.  
  
Running a hand through her layered blond hair, Sienne looked quizzically at the other female. Because he's a priest, right?  
  
Uh-huh. That was the problem from the very beginning, but he just blames it on that Beowulf person instead. Easier target and all that.  
  
Can you really say that with complete certainty? Arrick asked, crossing his arms. Saying that Priest Buremonda is taking out the hostility he has about his job on Sir Kadmus because of jealousy, while using said job to stay with Miss Dular seems...a little farfetched, he shrugged at the end of this, clearly losing interest in the discussion.  
  
Alazlam held out a hand and all his assistants focused their attention onto him. Very good, all of you. Although we can deduce the cause of Priest Buremonda's emotional reactions due to what he reveals of himself in this book, let us keep in mind that this is a heavily biased account. I'm certain that Reis and Beowulf had a different view of the events presented, but it also seems as if they've never bothered to write out their own accounts.  
  
So then, Petel started, since it's so biased, does that mean you're not going to use it for research purposes?  
  
Well, that would depend on what happens in the end, the professor smiled wanly, and what he says about the Zodiac Stones and the Church's involvement with them.

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, November 27th)  
  
Not since the day my family was taken away from me have I ever felt so many emotions at once. I feel so betrayed, hurt, angry, sad...I do not know whether to laugh at my own foolishness or cry because he took her away from me.  
  
Lately, I have been suffering from a bout of insomnia. It always happens this time of the year, so I know it will go away soon enough. However, tonight I just felt so restless that I decided to take a walk around the church. It is such a beautiful church, and I am proud of having a hand in transforming it into a place that will always receive God's eternal light. When I walked by Reis' room, I heard noises. After a moment, I could easily ascertain that there were two different voices coming from the room. And after another moment, I heard her sweetly low voice murmur his name.  
  
Even in her deviancy, she still sounded so beautiful.  
  
I simply do not know what to do now. Or rather, I do know, but...I just want this to be a bad dream. If I drink enough, maybe that is all it will be.  
  
But it really is not, is it?_

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, November 28th)  
  
My angel...what happened to her? Today she sounded so coarse, so base that it saddened me how much he managed to drag her down to his level. I merely wanted to apologize for my inability to protect her, I wanted to warn her about his ways, about the kind of low creature he truly is. But she threw my cautions back in my face, actually attacking my good intentions! She never used to be this way, she used to be kind, gentle...my God, what has he done to her? I knew then that I had to send her back to Murond for her own good, and I told her so, but then she revealed that he had proposed to her.  
  
It's a trick. I know it is. He wants to chain her to him for now, just a little plaything for him to ruin. And she, like a true innocent, can only see his pleasant mask. She cannot see the dark intentions he has for her. I am sure he has them, he's the same as the rest of them.  
  
They are all the same.  
  
I have already prepared preliminary plans to send her back to Murond, where she will be safe from his clutches. This much I can do for her._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, November 29th)  
  
I now realize that sending Reis back will not be enough. The only way to completely free her is to do away with him. He plans to take her away.  
  
I will not let anyone take her away from me.  
  
If he can be a beast without shame, answering her door in the early morning when I thought to talk to her about her upcoming transfer, then he will die as a monster. He and the disgusting Lucavi are the one and the same, so I will use their magic to bind him into what should have been his true form. And to think, Vormav Tingel was thinking of making him the Zodiac Brave for the Aries stone!  
  
Ordinarily, I would not interfere with the Church's plans. If they can recreate the Zodiac Braves and save Ivalice, then I want to help them with all my power! But to choose someone who is so perverted that he would commit his sins in a place blessed by Saint Ajora...then it is my right to free them from the error of their ignorance. I will save her, I will save the Church, and I will free Ivalice from the wretched clutches of one of those that have hurt us so-called commoners for so long.  
  
Our Holy Father and His Blessed Son, please lend me Your strength in this endeavor._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, November 30th)  
  
What I believed in was a lie.  
  
She was the true monster. The stones can bond with the unholy darkness of Lucavi. It is hard to think clearly right now.  
  
I trapped Kadmus in the library, fully intending to use the Lucavi spell on him. I was certain that he would transform...a part of me still believes it. I saw Reis beyond the barrier I had constructed, one that he could not detect as it was a Zodiac-based one. Yet Reis passed through it and blocked the spell's path.  
  
She was smiling. She has such a beautiful smile.  
  
But the spell changed when it hit her. She had a stone in one of her hands, and it converted the spell from a pure Lucavi-type to a Zodiac-type. I do not know where she found the Aquarius stone she held, but that must've been how she was able to bypass the air sign barrier. She was flung back, slamming into Kadmus; somehow my elaborate spell trap was disabled, probably by the stone's power.  
  
She wasn't moving.  
  
He was holding her, trying to revive her while I could not do more than to stand in shock at what had just occurred. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Reis...transformed into a giant purple dragon. She was thrashing about, though I cannot recall if she actually roared. I saw her tail swinging around, and he was thrown back into the wall of the library entrance. Her wings were flapping like a bird's, and she actually rose from the ground, smashing into the skylight and flying into the fog that cluttered the sky.  
  
I did not think she could have the potential inside her to become a monster. She is so kind, she seemed as if she could have been an angel descended from Heaven...  
  
I took the stone before getting Scarlet's assistance in helping Kadmus. I honestly do not believe he will survive the night, not with the grievous injuries to his chest and head.  
  
I don't know...what can I do now? Everything is wrong. Why did the stone not deflect the spell? It is supposed to be a holy relic, so why did it aid Lucavi?  
  
What have I done?_  
  
It was dark when Alazlam J. Durai finally looked up from the beaten, yet strangely well-preserved journal. Moonlight weakly filtered through the window of his tiny flat, his home in the bustling little town of Gariland Magic City.  
  
Olan Durai's papers held a fair amount of information about the Zodiac Stones. Cidolfas Orlandu had once possessed the Libra stone, his family's legacy. Olan could intuitively understand something of the stone's true nature, being a very accomplished astrologer, and he knew the stones to be a gateway to power beyond a mere human's control. Later Olan was able to learn more from the accounts his adopted father had secretly sent him, details regarding the sword master's travels with Ramza Beoulve. Men of power, both within the Church and of the aristocracy, turned into the mythological Lucavi. A boy was brought back to life. Millennia-old mechanical constructs used the stones as energy sources.  
  
A dragon regained her humanity.  
  
Alazlam's ancestor had mainly cared about the Lion War and Delita's ability to use everyone, including his adopted father and his dear friend Ovelia, but that meant following Ramza's journey from noble to heretic. That meant understanding the Zodiac Stones, and the Lucavi, and the truth about the vaunted saint Ajora Glabados. All this Olan had learned from the accounts left by many of the braves before they descended into Orbonne Monastery for the last time, hidden in a place known only by he and Sir Orlandu.  
  
Olan knew a lot of the secret things that went on. He wrote them all down, and although the Durai Report had been confiscated by the Church, even they could not bring themselves to destroy it. Alazlam had been simply astonished at all the things his martyred ancestor related in the Durai Papers. The political plots, the Lucavi, and the false saint...it all seemed like a convoluted piece of fiction.  
  
But it was the true history.  
  
Alazlam felt different after reading the priest's account. He felt as if he could understand the role the stones played in history, in the truth. For the first time, everything made sense. The stones were nothing more than a gateway into a human's true nature. It made grand heroes become demons, and fragile victims into saviors.  
  
It showed the truth.  
  
_Maybe_, he mused to himself in the darkened room, _maybe that's why the stone did nothing more than change the type of spell Priest Buremonda used. It wasn't because it was affiliated with the Lucavi. It probably would've changed the holiest of spells into a Zodiac-type as well.  
  
I wonder if she was sad when she finally regained her human form._

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 47/ 987, December 17th)  
  
Today I informed Cardinal Draclau that I wanted to formally charge Beowulf Kadmus with heresy. When he asked why, I explained that it was a delicate situation between us and Reis' death', and that Kadmus could potentially accuse me of having something to do with the situation. I knew that in the cardinal's mind, the Church needs to look immaculate in order to fully step in after the war and sway the people to seek out the Church for help instead of the nobles. Having any of the clergy be charged with murder would obviously hamper that plan, so he agreed to at least presenting the offer of a trial-less heresy charge to Kadmus.  
  
I am sure he will take it. From what Scarlet says, he does not remember what had happened to Reis. I hope he never does. I am still...somewhat distraught about her bestial roots.  
  
I need to get the Aquarius stone away from Church lands as soon as possible. When Kadmus takes the charge, I'll be sure to send Reis' luggage with him. The stones are the gateway to Hell, to the Lucavi, and I could not, in my right mind, let the Church corrupt themselves with the evil of the stones. The Church needs to save Ivalice, not become the base of its destruction. Even if there is potential in Kadmus to be affected by the stone, it is better in his hands than in Tingel's. I have noticed that the cardinal brought back with him a similar stone with the sigil of Scorpio engraved in it. He said that he received it from Tingel in Bervenia.  
  
For now, I cannot think of a plan to get rid of that stone as well. I will assume, however, that Tingel holds another stone. But I have time to plan; the Church will not act with resurrecting the Zodiac Braves until after the war is over. It would not do for the braves to appear now, while the war is dying down. But if the braves appeared during the climax of another war...no, I cannot write such words. The Church is a good institution. It has taken good care of me and other orphans left wandering in the midst of the war.  
  
They are just misguided as to the true potential of the stones.  
  
I find that I do not wish ill will towards Beowulf Kadmus. I still resent him for the nature of his relationship with Reis, but...I cannot believe I have gone this far.  
  
Even if she was a monster, I will repent for my actions that day for the rest of my life, or until I can no longer see that smile on her angelic face.  
  
I will never atone for my sin, will I?_  
  
What a pitiful man, Alazlam couldn't help but speak aloud, his voice unheard by human ears in the emptiness of his office. It was approaching sunset on a typical Gallionne June day, and as his office window faced west, it allowed for the reddish-orange hue of the sinking sun to flood his cramped office.  
  
The door was suddenly thrown open and Sienne's lithe figure slipped through, which was promptly drenched with the colors of the sunset. Professor, everyone's waiting on you. Planning session for research during summer break, remember?  
  
Yes, yes, the scholar smiled lightly, pushing down his feelings of pity and replacing it with his usual calm expression, I'll be there in ten. As the door closed behind his assistant, he felt a bit of weariness seep through his body. He'd read lots and lots of historical accounts, but so few had gotten to him as deeply as this one had. He stopped reading it to his assistants for that reason. He thought of it as sparing them, and after a while they had all forgotten about the journal in favor of their studies and duties.  
  
Old bones tired out by years of hard work creaked a bit as Alazlam stood up, but he paid them no mind as he placed the journal on his desk and walked to the door. There was a lot of planning that needed to be done tonight for his latest book, and he needed to focus on that now.

-0-

_(Lionel Castle, Lionel; Pantora 49/ 989, October 23rd)_  
  
_I am very afraid now. Although there is still the wish inside my heart that the Church will rise above the power of the aristocrats and bestow the freedom that the people truly deserve, I know it to be nothing more than a wish. Having used the Lucavi spell years prior, I understand fully that the Zodiac Stones are not as blessed as we would believe them to be. She used it, and the spell's composition changed. This would not be possible unless Lucavi and the Zodiac Stones are compatible, for if the stone had been holy, my spell would have been dispelled. Instead, my beloved Reis still changed, transforming into a beast of extraordinary power.  
  
I did not know there was such a monster within her. Even after all these years, I still cannot believe it.  
  
My only hope now is that Beowulf Kadmus has continued to keep the Aquarius stone far away from the Church. It was certainly a gamble that had paid off. I know it will take at least six of twelve to summon the most unholy evil upon Ivalice again, and I know of at least four stones possessed by the Church, including the Scorpio stone that has the cardinal under its thrall.  
  
Cardinal Draclau had asked me to come by tonight. He knows, he can surely smell the taint of the Aquarius, for that stench still lingers in the library. He will understand my plan involving Kadmus and the charge of heresy, and my life will be forfeit then. Somehow, it is fitting this way. As soon as I had used that Lucavi spell, my life and soul had been bound to them. Now, their pawn has come to collect on their behalf. It is just as well. Her smile still lingers. Will you be content now, Reis?  
  
Our Lord Above and His Blessed Son, I thank You for allowing me to humbly serve You for as long as You wanted.  
  
_

-End-

Wow. I'm very sorry...I'm at least a week late with this. Don't worry, this little series is bi-weekly, because I'd like to end WHW on its one-year anniversary. It would be weekly, but I have a game backlog to clear out. (Despite 's glitch, next chapter is due 7/20).  
  
So, anyway, Verden. The game states that he cast that spell out of jealousy because he lusted after Reis. Saying that it's lust makes it so...boring to me. The Hero loves, the Villian lusts. Since love at first sight' tends to be typical of many romances, I decided that Priest Buremonda could have that sort of situation instead, because it's slightly better than a really bad case of sexual frustration. Though, there was a bit of that too.  
  
-I realize that Alazlam's book on the Lion War had the subtitle Truth of the 400th Year'. I can't tell if this means that 400 years have passed, or that the time period of Ramza's Ivalice was 400 Some Initials, which just gets even more confusing when you consider that the Yudora Empire was a thousand years before, which was when Ajora lived and Western initials tend to have something to do with religion (thanks for confirming the A.D. thing, anon). Because my head hurts less when I think of the former option, that's what you get.  
  
-Ni'iejin-- Sun Island people' Ni'iego-- Sun Island language'.  
  
-Random Durai stuff: How _did_ Olan (or Orlan, whatever) find out all that stuff with the Lucavi, anyway? Damned if I know. I'm not going to mess with the whole Ramza is dead/alive' confusion that the ending brings about.  
  
-Beowulf, the Aries Zodiac Brave? Think palette swaps and Velius' job class. It seems that a character doesn't have to have a zodiac sign analogous with the stone in order to provoke a reaction...  
  
-Yes, I know that Holy Dragon Reis can't fly. Or, to put it another way, she can't fly _now_.  
  
Reviewers (like anyone remembers their reviews by now)!  
  
Hello, Raid and Ruins! I like that name, very interesting. I'm very honored that you liked WHW as much as you did. I certainly didn't think anyone would really like it, not in the beginning. Promising stories...hm. I believe I have a few. :)  
  
Yo, Luna! This third-person POV is really odd to write in...anyway, I'm glad you liked the epilogue. Hm...would it be much of a spoiler if I said he did?  
Yeah, WHW was like another week, another chapter', except that some weeks I would end up writing 20 pages in a day because I am the master procrastinator. This story is so chubby...  
By the way, I got suckered into going to an anime con recently. AX sucked this year. I should've gone to Otakon instead. :/  
  
Sup, The Burning Misery? I think the fact that WHW was a prequel story offered some interesting challenges. I had to make sure that this ran smoothly with the course of the story...not like it matter, considering how important' most of these characters are to the plot. Bah.  
Cardinal Draclau becomes the first Lucavi that Ramza's troop fights in the game. He's that fat bloater, Queklain.  
You write poetry? I should learn how to do that...I can't stand reading poetry though. I'm going to read one of yours one of these days...  
  
Hey, Mavina! I wanted it to be lies too...though I do love angsty endings. Well, in the end the ending was just...a new beginning, of sorts.  
I don't understand what you mean with this sentence: There isn't so much fighting as in FFT to make this think it is an actual fanfic! I'm serious! Take out of FFT names and I wouldn't have second thought the story isn't perfect!' Can you please clarify for confused little me?  
I'm planning to make the FFT section my new home. I like small sections, they're cute.  
  
Reis Nailo, hello! I'm glad you like the story so much, and I'm especially honored if you do that Reis thing because of my story. :) Good luck to you as well!  
  
Hi, rufe. I honestly don't mind if you review with an anonymous or signed in name. I'm honestly happy that you liked the story, and especially that you liked Verden Buremonda. He was...interesting to write. Well, I hope you like the _Those Left Behind_ stories as much as I'll like writing them!  
  
MavGunloc, I loved how you had new paragraphs for the random comments, but not when you had the actual review of the two chapters. It's especially great that those were big paragraphs too...heh, just playin' with ya.  
  
_Those Left Behind_, second story: What Have _You_ Accomplished, Sir Izlude Tingel?'


	35. TLB: What Have You Accomplished?

Those Left Behind  
  
Story #2: What Have _You_ Accomplished, Sir Izlude Tingel?  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

_I'm absolutely sure that we'll be reunited again.'_  
-Chapter 11

-0-

Izlude Tingel was a knight.  
  
He wasn't terribly skillful, or experienced, or even very good. He couldn't use a sword to its fullest potential because he kept over-adjusting his balance after every swing. There was something a bit off with his eyesight, which didn't help with the shortness of distance necessary to adequately wield a sword. Although he was a very passionate and determined young man, that didn't translate to anything more than being good at following orders.  
  
He had been named as an elite knight of the Murond sect of the Shrine Knights just a little over three months before, in early October. And in those three months, there had been a significant increase in the number of comparisons between him and his elder sister Meliadoul. Despite the four and a half years between their ages, which no one ever took into account when comparing their respective skill levels, Izlude felt much younger than her in every aspect. She was a Divine Knight, a warrior of God, brave and intelligent. He was a Knight Blade who couldn't even use a knight sword.  
  
_I don't even -know- what a Knight Blade is_, he grumbled to himself as he left his morning practice. The old, grizzled Divine Knight that ran the practice always focused on the young knight's lack of ability with a sword. _And then he always tells Father or Melia about it...I can't stand it._  
  
In his depression, Izlude wandered through Murond Holy Place, unable to see the beauty of the falling snowflakes that twirled prettily around the island. All he could focus on was his own failure as a knight.  
  
As a Tingel.  
  
The Tingel family was not of noble blood. As his father had stated more than once, they didn't need such an empty title. They were warriors of God, acting out in His Name. They had more important things to do than to play at political plots and dinner parties. They were...  
  
--_We have much to owe the Lord and our Savior, the holy Ajora. The least we can do is spread their intentions for Ivalice in Their Name_--  
  
...special.  
  
_Melia can do it, she can do anything_, he thought glumly, kicking at a small pebble. He missed. _She does everything right the first time around. She could even hit that pebble. I'm worthless compared to her._  
  
It was the only truth he knew.  
  
He reached the dormitory for the Shrine Knights, wearily unlacing his boots as he climbed up the stairs to the floor that his room was in. His room was no different than any other knight's, even if his father was their leader. It was small and possessed a bed, dresser-drawers, and a window that looked out into the courtyard that separated the soldier dorms from the clergy's and others employed by the Church. The only thing that was different compared to most other rooms was the large spear resting against the wall to the right of his bed. He rather liked learning the skills of a lancer, even if the sword-wielding knights scoffed at the so-called cowardliness of jumping at an enemy from a safe distance away.  
  
--_Well, what do they know? To be a great warrior, we must have proficiency with different weapons. That's what separates us from regular knights_--  
  
Izlude could always count on his sister to try to cheer him up, though he hadn't pointed out that she might have been defending her own skills with the spear and crossbow as well. But he was grateful for her support. She was the only one he could ever depend on now.  
  
_There used to be another before, but...huh?_ Izlude noticed there was a small note lying on his bed. There was really only one person that ever contacted him outside of practice, and he cringed at what that meant even as his hands reached for the paper. _How could she already know?_  
  
_Come to my room. -M'_  
  
He sighed. It didn't matter how, only that she did. Now he was going to face another lecture. So, like the brave warrior that he was, he tightened up his boots and left his room, already resigned to his fate.

-0-

Meliadoul Tingel was a true knight. Although she took up swordplay at a relatively late age for a member of a knight family, at around eight or so, she quickly advanced in the ranks. She was a regular knight at fourteen, a Holy Knight at eighteen, and finally a Divine Knight at twenty. As far as the ranks in the Shrine Knights went, she was at the top of the warrior jobs. A credit to her gender, a pure and devout knight who held the words of God in her heart, she was beloved and honored by both the knights and the clergy.  
  
Even with all the accolades placed at her armored feet, her younger brother found it impossible to hate her.  
  
_But am I jealous?_ He couldn't help but ponder as he trudged over to her room. For the true elite knights of the Shrine Knights, the Temple and Divine Knights, their main perk was that their rooms were on the lower floors. Newbies such as Izlude had the questionable pleasure of rooms high in the dormitory, complete with lots and lots of stairs to climb. _It's hard to be jealous of Melia...she's just so amazing. It's just...sometimes I wish she weren't my sister._  
  
As he descended down the endless amount of stairs, other knights passed him by without a word of greeting. Izlude noticed that higher ranked knights only found him worth their attention when he was in the company of his sister and his father. This was something that didn't bother him all that much though, as he realized at a young age that those who would only choose for their company their superiors weren't worth associating with.  
  
At least, this was what he told himself.  
  
He almost danced in joy when he hit the ground floor, though his mood quickly turned somber once he remembered that he was going to get a lecture. He could already hear it in his mind: what it meant to be a Tingel, the honor in being born into such an esteemed family, how he needed to try even harder in the face of this awesome responsibility...  
  
_I'm sick of it._  
  
Izlude sighed as he reached his sister's door. Knocking once, he immediately heard her voice from the other side. Who is it?  
  
Melia, it's me, he answered, wondering why she even bothered to ask. No one else would _dare_ disturb the great Meliadoul Tingel while she was in her quarters.  
  
Come in already, then. Izlude lightly bit at his lower lip while he tried to gauge her current mood from that answer. Steeling himself, he entered her room.  
  
One thing must be said about Meliadoul. Despite her pure and chaste ways, which were considered to be very feminine qualities, she was also currently the only female Divine Knight. Because of this, she tended to cover up any signs of femininity due to some insecurities she had about how the male knights viewed her. She wanted to be treated like every other knight, not like a fragile flower or worse yet, despised for any weaknesses even as she climbed the knight hierarchy. At twelve, she chopped off her long hair and wore the same heavy armor as any other male. When puberty set in, she wore thick dresses designed to hide budding breasts and slender curves.  
  
The slender curves remained slender to this very day. The budding breasts blossomed.  
  
Izlude was a shy young man. He walked in, emitted a strangled cry at the rear view of his sister finishing the binding up of her bountiful chest, then ran out while slamming the door behind him. A few minutes later, Meliadoul walked out of her room, now clad in a beige long-sleeved tunic with a heavy forest green dress draped over her form. By the easy way she moved, it was obvious she was wearing pants underneath the dress. Good morning to you, she said sweetly.  
  
Despite the glowing reputation she had, her brother knew of her cruel sense of humor.  
  
Izlude scowled, turning his head away from Meliadoul's beatific smile. Aren't you supposed to be a modest, delicate woman? That's what everyone says, you know.  
  
The Divine Knight's smile hardened. I don't like being called Her good cheer returned. I just wanted to shock you into loosening up. You probably came down here thinking I was going to give you some long, heavy-handed lecture! She laughed easily. She always seemed to when she was around her brother.  
  
Izlude looked down, embarrassed that she had found him out so easily. Meliadoul glanced at him, her laughter quickly dying as a slightly hurt look blanketed her face.  
  
You really thought that, didn't you? Izlude kept his eyes downcast. That's...after everything we've gone through together, you actually think I'm overbearing. That's...  
  
The young man felt horrible. She was right! They were the closest of siblings, and here he was wallowing in his jealousy and annoyance at their respective roles. It wasn't her fault she was so wonderfully skilled, after all. Melia, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... he glanced over at her and his sincere words of apology died in his throat.  
  
She was grinning at him.  
  
Disgusted, he turned his face away from her again. You shouldn't play with people's feelings.  
  
Oh, Izlude, you're just so easy to tease. She touched his shoulder and he jerked away, the scowl from early back with a vengeance. The younger sibling had always taken things to heart more than one should. Hey, don't act like that. I honestly did want to talk to you. You shouldn't take things so seriously.  
  
...You never take _me_ seriously, Meliadoul, he said quietly, and it was the usage of her full given name that tipped her off into realizing that maybe she had gone too far this time.  
  
Casually, she looped her arm around her brother's. I take you seriously, Izlude. I know you don't like it when I tease you, but if I don't have the chance to unwind by being silly, I'd go mad. You're the only person I could ever show that side to.  
  
I know, he said tonelessly. But...it's just, right now...  
  
Things are difficult for you, right?  
  
...Well, not really... Even though he was very comfortable with confiding with her, the subject was hitting a little too close to home. It's, you know, just some things that I'll work out by myself.  
  
_Maybe._  
  
Meliadoul watched her younger brother's face, his words being too vague for her to comment on. Izlude's feelings always showed on his face, which didn't help with his trying to be a better knight. The enemy that could be read has already lost, after all.  
  
Izlude was accustomed to losing.  
  
She halted their walk, gently stopping him beside her. He glanced at her face, dark brown eyes curious at this sudden development. Slowly, she removed her arm from her brother's, her hands going up to her collarbone. she started, her lips one thin line on her face, are you going through a crisis of faith right now?  
  
Melia, what...? Izlude frowned, not liking the question one bit. He fully believed in God. To think otherwise would mean that there was no point, no purpose in the life he and his family led.  
  
_I have complete faith..._  
  
With a blank look on her face, she reached out towards him with her right hand, pressing the tip of her index finger against his chest. You don't believe in yourself.  
  
In that moment, he hated her a little for bringing this truth out into the calm atmosphere that surrounding the holy island.  
  
If you don't believe in yourself, how can you ever say with complete certainty that you have faith in God? He brought you, me, all of us into this world, and your lack of inner faith in who you are means that you don't have faith in the plan that God has for you. When she turned her face away from him, he was mesmerized by the solemnity of her profile. Have you ever had faith?  
  
A cold wind blew then, accented by the countless white flakes drifting in the cloudy morning skies.  
  
--_We both have to try our hardest to reach our dreams and become great people in our own minds_--  
  
_I was really going to, I really wanted to...but you're gone._  
  
Izlude's face went blank as he stared off into the distance.  
  
_Who do I fulfill the promise to now?_  
  
His sister put something around his neck and he blinked, the current reality coming into view again. Melia, what's this? He held up the end of the chain as far as it would go away from his face, his eyes widening as the upside-down sign of the Glabados Church became somewhat focused. This is Mother's--  
  
Yes, it is, she interrupted, grasping the hand that held the small relic. Mother willed it to the both of us. It's helped me through my problems, and now it'll help you through yours. Affectionately, she reached up and patted him on the head, grinning as he made a face and pulled away. And please, come to me if you're having problems. I'm still your big sis Melia, right?  
  
_Yeah, that's true._ Izlude smiled. He always felt like he could learn something from his sister, and right now he truly appreciated it. Nah, from here you look like short sis Melia, he laughed as she playfully swatted him on the shoulder, which was where her head went up to after he hit his growth spurt a while ago.  
  
He laughed, but on the inside he knew he needed something more than emotional support. Even if it was from his beloved sister, it wasn't enough.  
  
_But where am I going to find faith in myself?_

-0-

The next day found Izlude leaving from a very different sort of practice. It wasn't mandatory like all his battle practices were, but it was one he truly liked. After his yearly visit to Bervenia in Pantora forty-seven, back when the war was in its dying phase, he started going down into the bookrooms of Murond to read. He hadn't found anything interesting to read back then, but writing in ancient Ivalician became a lot easier once he could fluently read it. He stopped his sporadic visits to the bookrooms at the end of that year, however.  
  
He still had his returned letter with the terse note stating that the intended receiver had died.  
  
But in the summer of the next year, he was able to stop in Dorter while on his annual trip. He picked up several books on the legends of Ivalice and the young teenager was easily transported to a world of brave heroes and heroines, of fanciful monsters and cunning villains. Though the Ivalice in the legends and the Ivalice he lived in weren't all that different, he could still experience a sense of complete escapism from his father's apathy towards him and his sister's excellence that always overshadowed anything he did. An active imagination that had been repressed from childhood onwards fully bloomed then, and from then on he always made sure to have some time to himself each week so that he could explore those times that were better than his own.  
  
In those times, Izlude could've become a hero.  
  
Holding his worn anthologies under one arm as he walked out of the building that held the bookrooms, as it wasn't good to be found lounging in his room in the late morning, he heard his name being called. This normally wouldn't have surprised him if it wasn't for the fact that it hadn't been his sister's voice that he had heard. He turned, noticing that Rofel Wodring and Kletian Drowa were walking up to him. He smiled at this. They were the closest things to friends for the young man. Sir Rofel, Sir Kletian, how was the mission? He asked when they were within hearing distance.  
  
Eh, same as always. Boring, tiring, and completely not worth our time, Kletian said, smirking all the while. He was a Shrine Knight in name only, for his physical skills were just average. However, his knowledge of magic earned him the title of Sorcerer', and he was allowed to wear the armor of an elite knight of Murond. He wore it now, along with the gray cloth that showed his rank as a magician, suggesting that they had only returned just now. But, we go where your father asks us to go, he continued, shrugging in that cool and confident manner of his.  
  
Rofel, the hood of his own blue surcoat down to reveal short brown hair, smiled a little at Izlude. And while doing so, he complained the whole way there, while we were there, and as we returned. So much for complete fealty to our commander. They laughed while Kletian managed to look chagrined.  
  
I prefer being home instead of sleeping in a snowdrift, Kletian countered to his mentor, a long-standing familiarity within his words. Rofel and Kletian were from the same small town in Fovoham. Murond's a lot better than Zeltennia any day. Anyway, how's Meliadoul?  
  
Izlude arched an eyebrow at this. He'd heard rumors that the sorcerer liked his sister in a way that was decidedly not platonic. But, contrary to popular opinion, their father was not going to be the main obstacle in Meliadoul's love life. She's doing well. She should be at practice right now, if you want to see her.  
  
Kletian dropped his smirk. That's okay, I'll talk to her later, he wasn't the best at swordplay. Meliadoul was, and she never lowered her skill level for another's sake. Oh, you'll want to listen to this, it's pretty interesting.  
  
What's that?  
  
When Rofel and I stopped at Gariland's bar before taking the boat over, we heard this rumor. It seems like there's some horrible monster that roams throughout Ivalice, killing humans and monsters in one blow.  
  
Wow, really? Izlude perked up at this. For some odd reason, he felt he had read this before. How does it do that?  
  
Kletian's smirk was back as he started getting warmed up. That's the amazing thing. It seems to have complete command of the essential elements--fire, ice, and lightning. Or, at least, that's what they figure from its victims. No one who has ever hunted this monster has ever lived to talk about it.  
  
Then...how do they know about it? Izlude asked, a small sense of skepticism holding back a torrent of awe.  
  
See, there's actually a whole tribe of master hunters in Limberry that swear to have seen it, but they refuse to hunt it. They call it a Holy Dragon' because it was actually healed by a blow from a Holy Lance, Kletian answered, the spark of an idea now in his hazel-green eyes. Izlude, why don't you go and hunt it?  
  
Rofel said, a warning tone in his voice. His protégé glanced at him with an unreadable expression before turning back to the teenager and slipping on that smirk again.  
  
Izlude wanted to. He wanted to badly. To face off against the monster harming innocent--or at least foolhardy--citizens of his homeland, bravely defeating it and being known as a hero for his skill was the stuff of legends. Good legends, at that. Heroism sparked in his blood, the blood of legendary knights and noble men and women. True nobles, not the aristocrats who would dare compliment themselves by using the word.  
  
He could become a hero. After all, he had the bloodline, the skills...  
  
he shook his head, clearing his mind of the pipe dreams that swarmed around it, what makes you think that I'll fare any better than those before me? After all, people who've trained as hunters have died to this monster.  
  
Frowning a bit, Kletian looked at Rofel for help. After all, the teenager had a point there, didn't he? The elder man saw the look in his friend's eyes and recalled all the times he had helped young Drowa. There were a lot of times. Izlude, you are a knight. Furthermore, you are a knight who uses lancer skills. You may not know this, but a long time ago a lancer was known as a dragon knight' or dragoon', the only type of knight that could efficiently dispose of a dragon with ease.  
  
Slowly, Izlude nodded. I see.  
  
_I can do this. After all, I'm a knight._  
  
His dark eyes dulled at the thought.  
  
_But I'm not a very good one._  
  
Is something wrong? Rofel studied the odd look crossing the young man's face.  
  
_Maybe it's time I found out if I'm really cut out to be a knight. I need to see for myself..._  
  
A sincere smile spread across Izlude's face as he looked at the two elite knights. No. Thank you Sir Kletian, Sir Rofel. I needed something like this. He walked away, heading towards his room. He needed to plan how he was going to leave Murond, tell his sister...  
  
He frowned at that thought. Maybe it was for the best if he didn't.  
  
-0-  
  
Rofel Wodring looked at his hometown friend, irritation blooming on his face. Why did you do that? Do you honestly think Meliadoul is going to be impressed by the fact that you've sent off her brother to die?  
  
I feel sorry for that kid, Kletian Drowa remarked, his words condescending when he wasn't even a decade older than Izlude Tingel. Maybe it's time he needs to get out from under her wing.  
  
The elder knight sighed. That's true. She is rather overprotective. But remember, you've just sent out one of the Zodiac Braves in search of a rumor.  
  
Kletian swept a gauntleted hand through his hair, doubt plainly showing on his youthful face. Yeah, but it honestly didn't sound like one. If it's true, then we'll see what happens. I just thought some practical experience out on the field would be better than being screamed at here.  
  
If the rumor's true, the Holy Dragon would be a lot more than just a practical experience', Rofel sighed. And what are you going to tell your lady love'?  
  
...Not a damn thing, the younger man said after a long moment of silence, I really like her, God knows how much, but she needs to realize that her brother's one of us now.  
  
The two elite Shrine Knights started walking again, but not before Kletian saw his mentor nod in understanding. They were good friends, but they were also knights. No matter the bonds that connected two warriors, being a dependable knight came first. It had to. In Ivalice, there was always a war brewing, especially in times of peace. With the holy Zodiac stones emerging from Vormav Tingel's search, it was clear that a war was approaching.  
  
There was a war on the horizon, and all of God's knights had to be ready for it.

-0-

On the first day of the first year of Elria, the first year of peace after the bloody war now dubbed The Fifty Year War', Izlude Tingel stood at the bow of the ship that would take him to Gariland. At sixteen years of age, he was going on his first trip by himself to Ivalice's mainland. In the past, he had been accompanied by Meliadoul and his father, usually to their family home in Bervenia. Once they had detoured in Lionel and it had been the happiest trip he had ever taken. Now, he was by himself, all to hunt down a dragon.  
  
He hadn't told his sister where he was going, or even that he was.  
  
This was his time to prove himself.  
  
The trip was a short one, and soon Izlude found himself at the small dock that connected with Magic City Gariland. Hefting up his favorite spear in one hand and his small bag of supplies in the other, he walked off the ship and entered the town, a steady excitement rolling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Gariland was a relatively large town, well known for the Hokuten academy that had proudly stood here for centuries. There were always large amounts of children and teenagers running around, and as a result most adults choose to live in other, tamer parts of the Gallionne region. As the town was basically a training center for knights, no one gave Izlude a second glance. He wasn't in full Shrine Knight regalia, considering that he wasn't on a mission, but the lanky teenager still sported golden epaulieres over the shoulders of his long-sleeved gray tunic. Also over the tunic was the long dark green surcoat from his Shrine Knight armor, and just after the plain brown belt it had slits along the sides. Under the dangling lengths of the surcoat were simple gray pants, covered at the knees and below with golden genuilliers and greaves over dark brown buskins. His legs were a lot stronger than his arms, as evidenced by the black-colored leather armguards and gloves instead of golden vambraces and gauntlets.  
  
_But if I'm going to wear that much of my armor, I might as well have taken it all_, Izlude thought to himself as he looked around the town, instantly charmed by the quaint houses and the townspeople. _But this isn't Shrine Knight business. This is my business._  
  
_For once, this is my life._  
  
The thought bolstered the young man, and he began to walk with more spring in his step. _Hm, I need a map of Ivalice...and something to eat_, he added as his stomach growled. He had chosen to leave on the first boat out, his preemptive attempt to avoid Meliadoul at the cafeteria. He was lucky enough that he was allowed a month away from Murond. _Probably because they don't need someone like me slowing everyone down._  
  
_Ah, I'm doing it again. Focus! Heroes don't angst and belittle themselves at every opportunity, they take action!_  
  
With this, he strode to the center of the town, looking around for the local bar. In the distance he could see Gariland Magic Academy and remembered that Kletian had graduated from this school with near-perfect scores._ Too bad Father doesn't care for us to learn magic. I would've liked to attend a school, instead of having boring tutors that were never satisfied with my work._ Izlude sighed at these thoughts. He was just too accustomed to focusing on the bad things in his life.  
  
As he walked up to the school, hoping that he could borrow a map from their library or get directions to the general store, he noticed a group of people walking towards him. They seemed to be cadets ready to graduate, something he could deduce from the military-like way most of them were walking. There was a blond teenager in front, wearing clothes of blue and gold as well as boots that reached above the knees. Despite Izlude's excellent long-range vision, he had trouble deciphering if said blonde was a male or female. However, it was easy to see that this person was an aristocrat. Next to that person, there was a brunet male in red leather armor. _Huh...if they're cadets, then they should know where the stores and such are around here...wonder if they'll immediately notice I'm a commoner..._  
  
When Izlude neared the group of cadets he raised his left hand, which was holding his bag of supplies, in greeting. Excuse me, but I've just arrived here. Would you happen to know where the general store is?  
  
Oh, of course, the blond answered in a friendly matter. Now Izlude could tell that this was a male, though the close up was blurry with his far-sighted vision. If you go up this street to the academy and then turn right, there's a small district of stores just before the exit to Sweegy. That's where to get the best equipment, anyway, the boy fiddled with his ponytail as he gave Izlude an appraising look, though, it seems you don't need that. You're a knight, aren't you?  
  
Suddenly, Izlude felt a surge of pride. Yes, from Murond. And you all are to be of the Hokuten?  
  
The blond nodded, a slight hesitation glimmering in his eyes that Izlude himself had often seen in the mirror. Well, that's just how it is. Pardon me, but we have a mission to head to.  
  
Oh, of course, the taller teenager nodded, thanks for the directions. He turned away and began heading to the school. _Well, he's nice for a noble. Looks like he's my age. I don't see many people like me in Murond. I wonder what it's like..._  
  
However it was truly like to have peers the same age as him, it sounded welcome at the moment.  
  
A half an hour later found him at the local bar, sitting at the counter and dividing his attention between a mug of ale and a grease-laden meat pie. He was enjoying both equally--though the ale was drier than he preferred--and he especially liked how the food tasted like it had flavor. Murond's cafeteria served bland vegetables, bland bread, and bland stews. Only during a holiday was not-so-bland meat served, a homage to the diet Saint Ajora had once adhered to. It seemed like every time he went to the mainland, he found something there was better than Murond's take on it.  
  
Refill your glass? The bartender asked, gesturing to the empty mug next to Izlude's plate.  
  
Yeah. Local beer this time, please.  
  
How old are you?  
  
Izlude answered, mildly insulted. Shrugging nonchalantly, the brawny-looking bartender acquiesced, placing the refilled glass back in its original place. The teenager reached for it, taking a sip and wishing he could take back that action as soon as he did so. The bartender laughed heartily at the young man's expression.  
  
See, I wasn't tryin' to insult you, but if you were older you'd know that Gallionne beer's like drinking cold piss. The darker stuff's good, but it's best to just stay away, the barkeep laughed a bit more at Izlude's face after his analogy, sayin' that, what d'ya really want?  
  
Thinking over the array of liquor he had tried already, thanks to Meliadoul's social drinking inclinations and the fact he was the only one she was really social with, he smiled at the expectant bartender. Fovoham beer. After all, it was still daytime.  
  
Hm, maybe you do know something after all, the older man commented as he fixed up a new glass. A knight, ain'cha? Not a lot of people too fond o' them these days, what with the war an' all.  
  
I can imagine, Izlude said, accepting the new mug and taking a large gulp of the frothy liquor, I'm just a hunter for now. I'm looking for a monster called the Holy Dragon'.  
  
Nodding at this, the barkeep wrung out his hands. Yep, heard o' that one. Strange beast. Last sightin' over in Fovoham. Killed a whole pack o' hunters, must've been about ten or so. Least, that's how the rumor goes.  
  
The young knight was shocked at the beast's wanton killing. Well, as a knight it's my duty to help others, or die trying.  
  
The bartender let out a short bark of laughter. Is that so? Not easy to find a knight like that these days. Just over an hour ago a pack of renegade squires tried to raid the town. Had ta send cadets after them. Desperate times when we're relying on cadets to protect a town built for knights.  
  
_Yeah, I guess it kind of is._ There has to be something that can save Ivalice from all this. I mean, the war's ended.  
  
That's what you think, kid. We need a true leader, but that's not gonna happen, not while the nobles squabble over themselves.  
  
Izlude shook his head in sympathy. It's sad, but maybe taking down that monster will help some people, even if it's just a little, he said as he pulled out some coin gil and plunked it onto the bar, thanks for the information. Grabbing the spear that leaned against the bar next to him, the Knight Blade left the bar and, after a quick consultation of his new map, began to head towards Fovoham.

-0-

In the Goland area of southern Lesalia, it snowed at the slightest provocation. Was it raining in Lesalia Imperial Capital? Then, the weather around Goland Coal City had to show it up. Will it be sunny in the capital today? Then God forbid that any travelers heading south from Lesalia should pass through the laborers' town with nary a snowflake on their mantles. Lesalia was lightly gloomy, Goland's skies were permanently blotted out with ever-darkening clouds.  
  
Somehow, it was the perfect mirror for the feelings the pampered nobles of Lesalia and the work-worn miners of Goland held for each other.  
  
It was wintertime in Ivalice, and Izlude knew that he would be traipsing around the mainland. He was very warm and snug in the few layers he wore...or, he was when he was in southern Ivalice. Now that he was heading up through Lesalia region to Fovoham, he was starting to think that an extra cloak would've been helpful as well. And a blanket, too. He had been forced into ditching his tent after hail pelted holes in it when he spent the night in Zeklaus Desert.  
  
Now he trudged steadily through the falling snow and the snow that reached up to the middle of his shins, using his spear as a sort of walking staff. He hadn't a clue where he was now. It was completely dark, save for the drifting flakes that served to only deter him. He badly wanted to go through his bag, which he had strapped to his back while he clung to his spear, and take out his lantern and map. Even though he wore thick gloves, the fingers inside them were numb. If he let go of his cherished weapon now, there was no telling if he could manipulate his fingers to grasp it again.  
  
So he walked on endlessly through the unforgiving night.  
  
After a long time--he couldn't guess how long as his higher thinking functions in his mind had been steadily shutting down--his steel hawk-like eyes caught sight of a light in the distance. _A tent...light...there has to be someone there...please let there be..._ Using reserves of willpower he hadn't know ever existed, he dragged himself through the increasing amount of snow tightly packed on the ground. As the light became closer and closer, the tent began to look more and more blurry. _My vision...no...still far...away...  
  
Cold..._  
  
The blurriness melted together, and soon even the snowflakes were as dark as the pitch-black night as he fell forward, his face smashing into the soft snow. Izlude's grip tightened on the spear though, and he began to try and drag his body through the smothering snow, using the spear like some bizarre handhold. Struggling to keep his head up, numb lips managed to let a few words out. Please help...can't die...ye--  
  
His head fell back into the white field, the spear still upright like an elongated tombstone.

-0-

Kletian Drowa was reasonably sure he was in love with Meliadoul Tingel.  
  
After all, she was kind. She didn't mock him for being an average swordsman; instead, she strove to help him overcome this deficiency. After a few times of being helped', he realized that maybe it was better he stayed at his current level with the sword. Also, she was intelligent. They spoke of the war--he brought up social problems, she referred to strategic maneuvers--and of God. The heavenly father was a cornerstone in both their lives, and they could spend hours talking about how they felt influenced by both God and Saint Ajora. Kletian felt that they were a natural complement in their battle skills, what with him being a powerful mage and she a brutally precise warrior.  
  
And finally, from what he could tell, she had a great figure. Her thick dresses and heavy armor hid a lot, but going to school at both Lesalia Imperial Academy and Gariland Magic Academy had given him a knack for determining a woman's shape even with all those bothersome raiments. _But going further in that train of thought would be uncouth_, Kletian thought, _especially since this is Murond. But we're not in church right now, so..._  
  
Kletian, are you listening?  
  
He quickly turned to her, pinning an interested look onto his face. Of course I am, Meliadoul. I was just gazing at the waves. As you were saying?  
  
She looked at his face for a long moment, the moon illuminating her pale face while accentuating the darkness of her hair. It was windy at Murond's shores, and her chin-length hair had been tossed around for the better part of an hour now, giving her a decidedly childish appearance. _Though she's only a few years younger than me_, he smiled mentally, his eyes noticing a strand of hair that stuck to the corner of her reddened lips. _Lucky hair._ He would've moved to casually brush it away, but he was afraid she'd take it the wrong way and break his hand. There was always that possibility with her. I was saying, she said finally, looking away and focusing on the black waves that crashed along the rocky cliffs they sat on, maybe I did something wrong while looking after Izlude. He used to tell me everything, and now this...  
  
Kletian sighed mentally. _Izlude, Izlude, Izlude, it's always about Izlude._ He understood what it was like to be completely devoted to one person. To him, Rofel Wodring was that person. Although Rofel had left their small town in order to join an independent group that fought in the Fifty Year War while Kletian had been but a small child, they'd had a well-established written correspondence. It was because of Rofel that he attended Lesalia's military academy, and when Rofel wrote that he was quitting the war and going to be part of the Shrine Knights of Murond, Kletian had quickly switched gears and transferred to Gariland. And, in his opinion, it was all worth it to fight alongside his mentor, his friend, and to have Rofel look at him as something of a peer now.  
  
--_Meliadoul Tingel? I don't know...maybe you shouldn't aim so high_--  
  
Mentally, Kletian soured at the first piece of advice Rofel had for him. _Well, what does he know? I don't see -him- with a wife._ And, for sure, Meliadoul _was_ going to marry him, sooner or later. He couldn't care less if she was next in line for the position of commander of the Murond sect of Shrine Knights, he wanted _her_. Soon he planned on asking Vormav Tingel for the right to court her, and if he could get up the nerve to do _that_ then he definitely deserved her hand.  
  
...Maybe he resents me. He never said anything about it, of course--that's just how he is--but maybe he feels inadequate compared to me. I really wish he'd...  
  
But all that would have to wait until Izlude came back.  
  
He turned to her. Hey, don't worry. Izlude's one of us, I'm sure he'll be okay.  
  
That's not the point, she sighed, I just thought we were close enough that he could tell me anything, and his running off on private business', according to the assignment office, really... Raising her gaze from the dark waves to the mostly clear sky above, the expression on her face was blank except for the sadness within her dark eyes. Does being a knight mean that I have to be a lone rock in the waves?  
  
No, of course not, he moved up closer to her, hesitating a moment before reaching out and fitting his hand over one of hers, as knights, we forge bonds of comradeship with each other naturally. A lone knight can only die alone, but together we're capable of the most impossible feats. A war isn't fought by one person on each side, but rather with masses of like-minded people, he brought his other hand over and held her hand between his own, wishing that they weren't wearing gloves, we're at our strongest together.  
  
_That's how I feel...we can depend on each other..._  
  
She looked at him, a gentleness to her face that he'd never noticed until now. But Izlude doesn't seem to believe that we're all together in this. He seems to think that he's lagging behind.  
  
I know...I've noticed, Kletian earnestly replied, that's why I told him about the dragon...  
  
_...Oh...uh...dammit..._  
  
She was staring at him now, the softness that had been present just a moment ago making a hasty retreat.  
  
He couldn't lie to her. How could he? He was a knight, if only by association, and a true knight never ran away. I told Izlude about a rumor I heard after my last mission, about a rampaging dragon that was terrorizing the mainland.  
  
Calmly, she removed her hands from his, brushing them off against her lap as if they were now filthy. He couldn't see her face, bowed as it was, as she stood up and turned away from him. Is...that so?  
  
_Shit_. He winced at the tone of her voice, grating and low like stepping on crumbled glass. _There has to be some way to alleviate this situation..._ He stood up and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Meliadoul, lis--  
  
Her fist flew at him before he could even react, a vicious backhanded blow that jerked his entire body to the right. Indeed, he was lucky that she hit him with her left hand, as it was weaker and the edge of the cliff was to his left. It was a testament to his physical constitution that he hadn't been knocked off his feet, only stumbling back at her immense strength. Touching his left cheek, he grimaced at the sickly, rapid throbbing that arose at his touch. he snarled, glaring at her still form and her dark eyes, what the hell gives you the right to hit me?  
  
The Divine Knight merely stared at him coldly. Do _not_ use the Lord's name in vain, Sir Drowa. Spitting hatefully on the ground instead of saying his title would've instilled the same effect that her tone created. And let me promise you this: I will do _much_ worse to you if something should happen to my brother.  
  
And maybe that's your problem, Meliadoul, he spat back, it's your fault that Izlude would rather leave Murond secretly instead of confiding in his _wonderful_ big sister.  
  
The step she took towards him was no less than threatening. Is there something you want to say?  
  
I know how much you love your brother, but he's a knight now. He has to learn how to take care of himself, instead of having his sister run interference on damn near everything! I don't want to have my life depend on a kid that doesn't have any confidence because he's sheltered, and I won't have you risk my, or anybody else's life because of _your_ overprotective qualities! He took several deep breaths, something Rofel had always advised for calming oneself down, searching for some sort of understanding in Meliadoul's face. There was none. I told him about the rumor. Yes, it's my fault. But he went anyway. That should tell you something.  
  
Even your brother wants to grow up, so let him.  
  
Her eyes were still cold as she stared at him for a long moment, her lips slightly parted and revealing clenched teeth. Don't talk to me about what my brother wants or needs. You sent Izlude searching for either a baseless rumor or a deadly monster. Kletian narrowed his eyes at this, unable to retort as it was the complete truth. And I will warn you now that, whatever fate befalls my brother will fall upon _your_ head as well. And... her lips twitched before she shook her head, ...never mind, with that, she walked away, heading back to the compound of Murond.  
  
He watched her go. That was all he could do.  
  
--_Do you honestly think Meliadoul is going to be impressed by the fact that you've sent off her brother to die?_--  
  
_No, but doesn't it count that I was thinking of what was best for him? Doesn't it?_  
  
Kletian already knew the answer to that. He had known as soon as he glimpsed the icy, pulsating fury in her dark eyes. He had been reasonably sure that he loved her, but that look, her demeanor...  
  
Slowly, reluctantly, he began the lonely walk back.

-0-

It was warm.  
  
Izlude Tingel woke up slowly, warmth seeping through his numb body. he gasped, wincing as cold joints thawed enough to move. His dark brown eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was the brilliant orange and yellow of the roaring fire in front of him. Biting his lip, the pain immediately jolted his mind into full wakefulness and he moved stiffly, pushing himself into a sitting position.  
  
That was when he noticed the man sitting on the other side of the fire.  
  
Um, hello, Izlude said, then quickly--or quickly as he could manage--looked at his surroundings. It was a good-sized tent, circular in shape. Oh! Um...  
  
_Where am I?_  
  
The man smiled, though it looked a bit tired to Izlude's eyes. Hello there. It's nice to see that you really are alive. He gestured to the fire, saying, There's food on the sticks, if you want it.  
  
Oh, thank you, the adolescent looked down and noticed sticks planted in the dry ground, chunks of meat having been stabbed through on them. He eagerly grabbed one, then remembered that he was a guest and tried vainly not to gnaw too much on the meat. Somehow, it still tasted better than anything in Murond. Excuse me, how did I end up here? Izlude asked respectfully.  
  
Well, when I looked out, I saw a spear standing out in the distance. It wasn't there before, so I decided to check it out, the man explained kindly, that was pretty smart.  
  
_I...did something?_ Izlude smiled reflexively, reaching for another stick. Oh, well, I don't really remember it, what with the passing out and all. I'm just grateful you found me. I kind of didn't think I was really going to make it, he realized that he was starting to babble and focused on the meat. The man didn't reply, but he seemed to be listening. So, ah, are you a hunter?  
  
The man shifted, his blond hair almost gold in the firelight. Yes. And you?  
  
...Yeah, I'm a hunter too, actually. There was something odd about the man in Izlude's eyes. First, he was dressed a lot like a knight, though he'd never seen a uniform like that from all the militaries he'd been forced to study. The second were the man's eyes, but he wasn't sure why. I'm hunting this monster called the Holy Dragon'.  
  
...Is that so? The question was casual, but the way the man's eyes had flickered from the fire to Izlude's face for a bare second was anything but. It seems a lot of people are these days.  
  
Certainly Izlude had heard a lot about the victim count the monster had racked up when he was in Dorter. So I hear. They're even forming huge groups now.  
  
She's gaining quite the notoriety.  
  
... 'She'?  
  
The man's eyes stayed on Izlude's face a second longer this time. _Those eyes...is it a trick of the light?_ Excuse me?  
  
...You said Izlude pointed out, wondering if he should have in the first place, I thought that monsters didn't have genders?  
  
Hm, I suppose. This hunter wasn't like any other the teenager had met before. He certainly was a lot quieter than most of them were. It's probably because I knew her before that I can't help it.  
  
_Knew her before'...? That must mean..._ So, you've survived the dragon?  
  
Raking a hand through his hair, the man seemed reluctant as he stared into the fire. Ah, well...one could say that.  
  
_Oh...so that's it. It's personal, like a rematch, but..._  
  
Izlude was normally not a selfish person. There was no particular reason for this, it just didn't seem worth the energy to demand that something was his, only his. There were a lot of people suffering during the war, and he was taught that it was right and proper to give, not to take. After all, he wasn't a noble. So, he preferred to not complain about what he didn't have and gave what he did.  
  
But he wanted the claim of the dragon's hide.  
  
If he couldn't successfully hunt down the dragon, what right did he have to claim himself a knight of the Tingel name? He'd wanted to be a hero, someone who was worth something. Was he fated to live out his dreams through written legends?  
  
Have you heard anything about where the dragon is lurking now?  
  
No, have you?  
  
Maybe I've been turned around during the snowstorm, but I was really heading towards Gallionne. That's...that's where the current rumor places it.  
  
He was going to hunt the dragon. Only him.  
  
The blond was more than receptive to Izlude's lie, a sincere smile spreading on his face. Would you like to find her together? It's safer that way.  
  
Ah, no. Already the Shrine Knight was feeling guilty. I need to stock up some supplies in Goland anyway, and I wouldn't want to hold you up.  
  
Soon the man suggested that they turn in for the night. They slept within the safety of the tent, and the only thing that kept the teenager from blurting out that he had been lying was an old axiom that his father often said. He chanted it in his mind, to the steady beat of his heart.  
  
_The end justifies the means.'_  
  
_...Even so, I still don't feel right about it..._

-0-

The forest was dark, even if the sun was out in northern Lesalia. Izlude Tingel stood at the entrance to the ancient wood and pondered whether or not he should enter it. There was another road that led into Fovoham, but his map explicitly showed that the fastest route was through the forest. _But I'm sick of fighting skeletons and tree people_, he frowned, staring into the darkness within.  
  
That was when the screams rang through the woods.  
  
He immediately dropped down into the proper fighting position, his spear out in front of him. There was a gunshot, then another scream, raw and shrill, from deep inside the forest. _I have to help whoever's in there!_ This was the only thought in Izlude's mind as he ran into the woods, trampling through the thick undergrowth. One more scream echoed hauntingly before a deep silence settled upon the place.  
  
_Oh God, please don't let me be too late to help, I--!!_  
  
There were bodies strewn everywhere. Most of them were intact; these were the human ones. Izlude counted four such corpses, all of them looking as if they had an encounter with a wizard with a penchant for pyromania. From what he could tell from what was left of their clothing, they were hunters who used guns. At least, that was probably what the melted chunk of metal that bonded with one man's hand might have been once. The other bodies had been ripped apart, chocobos both of them, and they were missing enough parts to signify that they had been a monster's latest meal.  
  
_By the Holy Saint, what sort of creature could've done this..._  
  
He knew. It was hard for him to be convinced otherwise.  
  
This was what the Holy Dragon was capable of.  
  
There was a trail of blood, purplish-red in color, that led away from the bodies. Izlude followed it, his grip tightening on his spear with each step he took. He didn't have to go too far before he entered a clearing, light penetrating through the canopy of leaves that otherwise sheltered the interior of the forest. A hulking monster stood on the other side of the clearing, walking away from the bloody massacre. At the Knight Blade's mediated footsteps it turned around, blankly staring at the boy with its reddish eyes.  
  
It was a gigantic monster with a hide the same purple as the descending twilight, a shade brighter than the royal purple surcoat Izlude's father wore as the leader of the Shrine Knights. Its underbelly was by contrast a lime green color, as were the claws that jutted out of its immense feet. Large wings hung uselessly at the sides of its broad anterior, and with his excellent long-range vision he could see jagged scars on them. A wound bled freely on one of its forelegs, the same color as the trail he had followed.  
  
Here it was, the legendary Holy Dragon of Ivalice.  
  
--_Izlude, your penmanship is becoming very nice_--  
  
Izlude frowned, shaking his head to clear the thought. _Why would I think of her now...I can't let myself become distracted!_ He ran towards the dragon, who reared up at his reckless charge and opened its mouth. Just as the giant stream of fire rushed towards him, he jumped, powerful leg muscles like a well-tightened spring as he flew towards the canopy that separated him from the vast blue sky. As he began to descend, he aimed the spear directly at the top of the dragon's skull, slightly surprised as the monster merely stared up at him.  
  
--_Should I call you Sir Izlude', then?_--  
  
As he listened to the voice in his memory, he drifted off target. He tried to correct himself, but by then the dragon took one step to the left--completely out of his range now--and all Izlude could count on was the fact that he could always jump away--  
  
--BOMP--  
  
The Holy Dragon headbutted the young knight just as he was about to touch the ground and he went flying across the clearing. Out of pure instinct, he thrust the spear right next to his right side and behind him, nearly disemboweling himself in his haste.  
  
--DNN--  
  
The entire spearhead split into an innocent tree, fully embedded into the sturdy plant. Hesitantly, Izlude glanced behind him, dark eyes widening as he saw how close he had been to bruising--or breaking--his back. Landing on his feet, his knees wobbling slightly, he yanked his spear out of the tree and turned around, his chest throbbing painfully from the dragon's counterattack. _Oh no, the dragon's still--_ He spun around and into a defensive stance, fully expecting the monster to be right in front of him with jaws open wide and an inferno hurtling out between them.  
  
But the Holy Dragon was still on the other side of the clearing, watching him carefully.  
  
_What? But it had the chance, so why...?_  
  
--_Alright then, I would be honored to have a brother like you_--  
  
_No, no...what is this? Why do I keep thinking of her now?_  
  
Panting heavily in his stressed state, he stared hard at the monster.  
  
--_Yes, but on one condition: we both have to try our hardest to reach our dreams and become great people in our own minds_--  
  
_But...she's dead. She's been dead for years. That's what the note said, she's dead!  
  
Miss Reis...can't be..._  
  
It had to be a mistake. Maybe his mind had gotten rattled when the dragon--_that monster_, he consoled himself--had hit him. It was just a monster, a dangerous, vicious, brutal freak of nature that  
  
--_No one who has ever hunted this monster has ever lived to talk about it_--  
  
killed and killed  
  
--_Killed a whole pack o' hunters, must've been about ten or so_--  
  
without remorse, and....and...  
  
--_I'm hunting for something called the Holy Dragon'.  
  
...Is that so? It seems a lot of people are these days_--  
  
And all the times he had heard about it killing, the victim was always a hunter. Not farmers, or knights, or cadets. It was always killing hunters.  
  
There were a lot of hunters after the Holy Dragon's precious hide.  
  
_But that doesn't prove anything!_ Izlude argued with himself, still glaring at the still creature. _It may just be protecting itself, I can sympathize, but what does it have to do with -her-?_  
  
--_It's probably because I knew her before that I can't help it_--  
  
That man. The hunter who dressed like a knight, the one with the eyes that appeared almost red-orange in the firelight...he knew, didn't he? He knew the dragon as a she', a female in a species that had no sexes.  
  
A knight with red eyes.  
  
_Father...mentioned something once, about a Temple Knight with the same...that summer. Wasn't he the leader of the knights in Lionel...?_  
  
--_We're friends_--  
  
Oh God, Izlude whispered, eyes and mouth wide open as he stared at the Holy Dragon, are you...really...? He took a step towards the dragon, who shifted its weight warningly at his approach. No, I won't hurt you, I promise. Lowering his spear to the ground slowly, he began to walk towards the monster again. It allowed him to approach it then, peering at him almost benignly through dull pinkish-red eyes.  
  
No monster would allow a human to walk up to it, even if that human dropped its weapon. What monster could trust a human that much, considering how often humans hunted?  
  
But the Holy Dragon merely watched him as he stood right in front of its snout and stared into its eyes.  
  
_Heavenly Father above us..._ Y-you...you're really her, aren't you... the teenager murmured in subdued awe, you're Miss Reis.  
  
It felt right to say that, somehow.  
  
Overcome by his feelings, he looked down and spotted her leg wound. Though it was blurry to Izlude, he could see how grievous it was. Miss Reis, that's a terrible wound... he began to say, crouching down to examine it. She instinctively reared back and he held up his hands in a placating manner, exclaiming, No, no, I don't mean you any harm! If I can help it, I would never willingly harm you. At this, she calmed down again and allowed him to look at the injury.  
  
_Hm, this isn't too bad._ Izlude reached over his shoulder to the small bag of items he had taken to tying onto his back for easier travel, taking out two potions. The blue liquid inside the thick bottles gleamed, and Izlude congratulated himself on his thorough preparation. Opening the bottles, he poured the potions onto the wound, which quickly closed up in a matter of seconds. There, now you're perfectly fine, he smiled at her as he stood up. _Well, not -perfectly- so..._ Except now we have to figure out how to get you back into your original shape. To be honest, I like it a lot more.  
  
Holy Dragon Reis merely tilted her head to the side, which the adolescent took to mean some sort of agreement. Well, maybe a wizard back in Murond can help dispel this...curse. How did you end up this way, anyway? Huh, the man who runs the daily ship won't like this, but I'll make him understand, I'll make them all understand. I'm sure Melia would help...well, after a bit of convincing. Hm, well...hey! While he had been thinking of a solution, she had taken the opportunity to walk away from him. It surprised him that she could move so quietly. Miss Reis! Come back!  
  
She stopped, glancing at him for a moment before moving again. All he could do was watch as she disappeared into the darkness that the forest had more than an adequate share of. After all, he wasn't going to tell a dragon what she could or couldn't do, even if she had once been the beautiful woman who had helped him.  
  
_She helped me so much...but I'm not the one that can -really- help her, am I?_  
  
Nodding once at this thought, he turned around and walked over to his spear. Quelling the wave of sadness at being useless to help her, he started to make his way out of the forest, towards the one person whom he knew could.  
  
_And maybe, if I'm lucky, he won't hurt me too much for tricking him..._

-0-

Ivalice was the home of freak weather patterns. Even the isle of Murond was subject to sudden lightning storms in the middle of May, snowstorms in August, and heat waves in January. For once, though, the snowstorm that flattened southern Ivalice was meteorologically correct for the second week of January, if not a wee bit more vicious than the residents would have preferred.  
  
Izlude dragged himself through the snowed-in streets of Gariland, thoroughly annoyed at the capricious nature of the weather. It was as if God had the same sense of humor as his own sister did, which at once horrified and embarrassed the younger sibling. _No, I shouldn't think of it that way. God is good, God is great, this is just a test...oh, please let him be here, I don't want to walk to Igros..._  
  
Somehow, he managed to throw his body into the bar, using his spear to steady himself. No one in the crowded establishment noticed, or for that matter cared. Straightening himself, he scoured the place for a blonde man wearing a cape. _Oh, there he is._ The man was sitting at a corner table by himself, staring into a mostly-empty mug. _Hm, I don't think he's noticed me._ Already feeling the full burnt of the guilt he had carried each day after lying to the man, he took a deep breath and approached the table.  
  
The man looked up from his mug, an eyebrow twitching as he appeared to recognize Izlude. Oh, you.  
  
_...Eh..._ I apologize for my actions, I was wrong in deceiving you. Through the years, Izlude had become very good at the technique of the apology. As he had learned, one should state their apology for the specific action and no less. After all, he did have some pride.  
  
Did you find her? The hunter asked, brushing aside the apology. The Knight Blade noticed that the man had a strong grip on his mug and started worrying.  
  
  
  
...I see. Izlude wondered if it was just his imagination, or was the glass actually cracking? Was she a difficult opponent?  
  
Very much so, _Oh God, he really is breaking the mug,_ but I-I didn't...  
  
The man glanced up at the boy, the dimness of the bar making his eyes merely some vague dark color. Excuse me? he asked politely. That probably frightened the younger knight more than anything else. He'd never seen a polite angry person before.  
  
I didn't hurt her. Taking his considerable courage and focusing on it, Izlude stared directly at the man, I could never hurt Miss Reis.  
  
Dark red eyes widened for just a second before the hunter scrutinized the teenager more closely. How do you know her, if I may ask?  
  
_You shouldn't sound so polite when you're glaring at me._ I came by Lionel the summer she was there. She tutored me...she was really kind to me. We wrote letters to each other, until...I heard she had died. The old feelings that had arisen the moment he read that note rose up again, a wave that quickly sank back into the stormy ocean that was Izlude's natural emotional state.  
  
The man was showing no recollection in his expression. Izlude wasn't sure if it had been too long for the hunter to remember, or that Miss Reis had never mentioned to the man her correspondence with the teenager. He wasn't sure which was worse, either.  
  
I'm Vormav Tingel's son, Izlude, he clarified, not liking the facial tic that occurred on the hunter's face after he stated his father's name. And you're Miss Reis' friend, Sir Kad--  
  
I'm just a hunter now, far from a knight these days, the man interrupted, standing up and looking down at the shorter knight. Do you know which direction she went?  
  
East, I believe, Izlude answered, wondering why anyone would want to separate themselves from their knighthood, especially if they were once an elite knight for the Glabados faith. But, you're not going in this weather, are you? he asked in surprise as the hunter headed towards the door.  
  
You've already made me lose a lot of time, Sir Izlude, the man commented, smiling when Izlude reddened in embarrassment. But to come back and apologize...that takes a lot of courage and integrity. That's more than anyone can claim these days, he turned around, hesitating a moment. When Reis is back to being herself, we'll come visit. Goodbye, and with that, he walked away, exiting the bar.  
  
_I'll be looking forward to that._ Izlude closed his eyes. _But before then..._  
  
--_We both have to try our hardest to reach our dreams and become great people in our own minds_--  
  
_I still have our promise to fulfill._

-0-

Every afternoon in the month of January, Meliadoul Tingel went out to the north port and waited for the last ship to arrive. She knew her brother too well to expect him to come on the morning ship, even if that was the one he left on in the first place. If Izlude was going to come back to Murond, he would do it on the last ship because she had a lot of free time in the evenings and he would want to apologize. Although he had a nature like that of any other boy, he was prone to feelings of extreme guilt and a willingness to apologize in order to maintain good feelings. This was something their father had beaten into him.  
  
_But he never laid a single hand on me,_ she thought, watching the waves throw themselves at Murond's shores, _never to discipline me. And after Mother's death he never hugged me again. We didn't just lose a mother that day..._  
  
She shook her head at the course her thoughts were taking. Vormav Tingel was a good father to his children. But after his wife's death, he started becoming more of their commander than their father. _Perfectly understandable. We're a knight family, after all._ She chuckled, though the sound was hollow to her own ears. _I just wanted Izlude to feel a bit...a bit like Mother was still here, somehow.  
  
I wonder if I failed._  
  
Behind Meliadoul's perfectly constructed armor of steel, she was still something of the delicate girl that only wanted to learn swordplay so that her brother wouldn't be lonely. Then she had grown to love the feel of a hilt in her hand, the sound of her blade hitting home. She felt herself grow, improving with every swing not just her physical skills, but her mental focus as well. The love she had for God, the honor it was to be one of His knights intermingled with her father's expectations. She was going to be one of the best knights Murond, no, _Ivalice_ would have to offer. She had the ambition and the skill for it, and it was so easy for her to climb the ranks.  
  
_But somewhere, I left Izlude behind. Somewhere, my mind switched from keeping Izlude company to protecting Izlude. It's only natural when everyone else is leaving, but..._  
  
Kletian Drowa's words had hurt. They hurt in a way she had never felt before, not even when her mother had died and the world changed in ways it shouldn't have. She knew he was correct, that she was being too overprotective, that Izlude had to grow on his own and become an excellent knight in his own right, but...  
  
_I'm afraid. He could die on a mission at any time. Or maybe...maybe he'd leave me the same way Father has._  
  
This was her fatal secret, the one she could never to reveal to anyone, much less herself. It scared her to be all alone. When she was a child, there were so many people that surrounded her, but as she grew older she became lonelier. The more her body changed, the more the people in her life began to leave. She was praised by her peers, but what did that matter in the end? They weren't her friends, much less her family.  
  
They weren't the people she loved.  
  
But, while she knew Kletian's words to be the truth, she didn't like them at all. Those words were the only thing holding her back from going to the mainland and finding her brother, however much she really wanted to. No, she would wait for Izlude to come home. Once that happened, she would try in the future to be understanding and to give Izlude his space. She would practice and pray for longer hours in order not to smother her brother.  
  
And she'd be lonelier for it in the end.  
  
_But at least we'll be knights together. He'll go on his missions and I'll go on mine, and when we see each other again I'll tease him endlessly because he's still my dear little brother. We'll get drunk and talk into the night whenever we can, just like always._  
  
_Yeah, that sounds good._  
  
Today was the last day of Izlude's month-long vacation'. If he didn't arrive on today's evening ship, she was going to calmly go to her room, grab her Save the Queen, and kill that sorcerer who sent her brother on a fool's mission. The punishment she would receive didn't matter, not next to fulfilling divine justice.  
  
In the end, Meliadoul's love was more dangerous than any sort of hatred.  
  
The ship was coming in. She stood rigidly, wishing she had Izlude's oddly strong far-sighted vision. The sea breeze drifted past her form, only stirring the hood of her dark green surcoat, the mark of a knight in training, no matter their actual rank. She was in complete armor, fully prepared on extracting revenge should her brother not be on the incoming ship.  
  
After an excruciatingly long time for the Divine Knight, the ship docked at the tiny port and a few people stepped off the ship. They were all knights, and a couple of them greeted her in a respectful tone before heading towards the small compound that was the Glabados faith's main headquarters.  
  
The last person, who made a couple' into a few' slowly walked up to her. Hello, Melia.  
  
_Okay, no acting like an overly concerned parent._ Hi, Izlude. It's been awhile.  
  
He looked down, his short hair being ruffled by the breeze. I'm sorry.  
  
You...had to do it, the words were hard to get out, but as soon as she did, she felt a strange sort of peace, I understand, though I wish you'd let me know before you left.  
  
I know. That's what I'm apologizing for. He was holding a medium-sized box in his hands, and now he handed it to her. Here. I made a lot of money hunting, so I wanted to get you something for...for putting up with my selfishness.  
  
She took it, surprised at the heaviness of the oak box. Don't worry about it, she said lightly, sliding the lid back. Inside were many varieties of liquor, and judging by the labels of some of them--_like that nice bottle of Fovoham whiskey,_ she noted--they were all her favorites. You must've made a lot of money. Did you find that Holy Dragon' or whatever you went off to find?  
  
...I did, but it's sort of a long story, he fidgeted before smiling sheepishly, I'm going to go to my room. I kind of want to be alone right now. Um...let's have a sword practice tomorrow, too. He waved once before walking away, leaving Meliadoul on the port. She took a deep breath, a delayed feeling of joy spreading through her body.  
  
_Yeah, that...that went well. Let's keep it up, Meliadoul._

-0-

The few letters he had were scattered on his bed. It was too dark to read them, but knowing that they were there, that they were concrete evidence of her existence at one point was good enough.  
  
_Why did they say she was dead? Someone had to have known...I don't think Sir Kadmus would've turned her into a dragon, so..._  
  
Izlude didn't think he _really_ wanted to know, though. It was enough that she was alive.  
  
_I almost killed her in order to make myself feel more like a knight._  
  
He felt ashamed. Even though he truly doubted he could've been the one to successfully hunt down the Holy Dragon, it was the intent, the willingness, the idea that to be a good knight meant to be drenched in the blood of his enemies...  
  
_What was I thinking? That's not God's way at all. I should be emulating Him, not falling into those base actions. After all, I'm one of His knights.  
  
I'm a Zodiac Brave._  
  
He picked up the palm-sized blue stone resting in the middle of his bed. It was cool to the touch, and in the dark of his room he could do no more than to lightly trace the symbol engraved in its center.  
  
The symbol of Pisces.  
  
Last year, he and his sister had been called into the High Priest's office and made to pick the stones they wished to be the new braves for. Meliadoul had graciously allowed Izlude to go first, and this was the stone he had picked for himself.  
  
When he had read the official notice of Reis Dular's death, he had noticed that she had been--was a Pisces.  
  
But now, everything was much clearer to him. Now that he found out that she was alive, he could keep the promise they had made, the promise that bound them as siblings. He was going to master the sword like any other knight. With the help of the other braves, he would save Ivalice and make it into God's promised land, just like Saint Ajora had once claimed of the country. There were so many possibilities in life, and Izlude Tingel was going to make sure that Ivalice had the very best one in its future.  
  
Or die trying.

-End-

I really like Izlude and Meliadoul...and I can't forget Kletian as well! These three Shrine Knights make up half my list of my favorite FFT characters, so I had to show them off here. Each of them show an interesting quality: single-mindedness. Izlude's all for helping Ivalice, Meliadoul screams from a rooftop you killed Izlude, now die!', and Kletian is all about proving himself to Rofel. However, between Izlude I'm-going-to-Jump-at-you-with-a-sword-even-though-it's-the-spear-that-gives-the-damage-bonus-for-that-skill' Tingel and Kletian I'm-going-to-have-an-uber-group-of-ninja-and-samurai-and-time-mages,-but-I'm-going-to-stand-in-front-of-them-and-charge-Dark-Holy-for-ten-turns-on-my-first-turn-without-moving' Drowa, I can't help but think that the Shrine Knights are long on passion, but regrettably short on tactical skills. Ah, well, that's part of their charm.  
  
I find that the most interesting relationships in the game happen to be between siblings. Considering that there are eight different brother/sister pairs, not to talk of elder brothers (including Dycedarg's :)), we get the idea that family is the most important bond in the game (though some people --coughMalakandDycedargcough-- are pretty bad siblings overall). What makes the relationship between Meliadoul and Izlude so interesting is that she's the only confirmed older sister, and consequently there are lots of little role-reversals that enhance who they are.  
  
- Despite the four and a half years between their ages...' I can't find any single source that seems wholly reliable on FFT ages. What I plan on doing is playing the game straight through and find out the real age differences, and then making the necessary changes.  
  
- Knight Blade' -- Night Blade'. FFT, for all your mistranslating needs!  
  
-The description of Izlude in Gariland is from this absolutely beautiful Japanese fanart I found while looking for Reis art. I would put it up on my author's page (along with the immensely beautiful watercolor of Reis I found on that same site), but that's very disrespectful to the artist so...I'm sorry.  
  
-I wrote twenty-something pages of Izlude wielding a spear before I found out via GameFAQ's FFT board that he uses a sword in his battle. Because it's annoying to change all the references, he keeps his spear.  
  
Reviewers!  
  
Thanks, anon, I changed the note in that story as soon as I read your review.  
  
Hey, Mavina, do you think I could let go of anything having to do with WHW so soon? I had to keep writing.  
  
Man, Luna...you're pretty cruel. I've been trying to find a way to get to the East Coast just to see Hyde...but I'm poor, so I'm going to lock myself up in my room and play Roentgen', 666', and the two Laruku CDs that came out this year. You've made me a sad fangirl, lemme tell ya. Um, anyway, review...I wasn't sure how everyone was going to view the stuff about Alazlam and his interactions with his students/assistants. I wondered if I overloaded the story, so I really felt better after seeing your review. Then I felt horrible about the Otakon thing, so it all evens out!  
  
Yo, The Burning Misery...yeah, decided to go down the same hour I was going to post up the story. Good thing I didn't, I guess. Heh, I thought that Queklain was the easiest. Velius...now that guy's a bastard.  
It's sad to say, but I frequently research' the game. I lurk the FFT board at GameFAQs, and I can read enough Japanese to look up information on this one site that has everything in the game in the original Japanese text. Oh, and my PS2 is right next to my computer. Hm, Reis and Buremonda info in the game? The only places in the game that you find out about Buremonda is in the description of the scene Reis' curse' and Reis and Beowulf's Brave Story entries. Reis' past...um, that's all me trying to justify why the game says this or that. I still don't believe anyone's enough of an idiot to turn the person they hate most into a frigging holy dragon, of all things. And don't call yourself slow, I'm pretty slow myself if it doesn't have to do with writing.  
What you pointed out was interesting. In the epilogue, Draclau explicitly states that Buremonda wants me to declare you a heretic', which caused Beowulf to think about taking up the charge. However, then I realized that my date in the story's journal was off by lots of days, so I'm just going to thank you for the correction.  
Heh...I don't see how I'm hinting Tingel' for this story when I posted up the story title. But no, Chieko's diary is just a loose end that I may or may not tie up one day.  
...Ah, this is a little long, isn't it? Well, for the review on _Predator_, it's set at some random time after Reis recovers her human body. I put up a small note at the end because I'm sure that others were confused as well.  
  
Ooh! Kumusta, Toastyann! Though I know you never read the notes, I'm going to answer anyway. I'm really happy you liked the story and the concluding chapters so much, it means a lot to me! You don't have to explain about the too slow for you' thing, you've already explained it to me once in an email. And please, take your time to tell me what you think about the last chapters and the epilogue. That makes it better. :)  
I considered placing _Those Left Behind_ in its own story file, but I decided against it when I realized how interconnected this little series is to _Within Holy Walls_. It's as much for everyone's convenience as much as mine to simply attach these stories to WHW so that anyone willing to can easily look for a reference to a chapter without having to switch story files or anything like that.  
Comparing my writing to Mitsuda's music is one of the highest compliments I have ever received as a writer. I _adore_ his compositions, from Chrono Trigger to Xenogears to Chrono Cross (which is _the_ absolute best game soundtrack I own), and I often listen to them while writing. So, thank you.  
  
Hey, Hawk of Death! Somehow, I have a feeling you've been reading this for days. I'm glad you like it so much, and I honestly hope that my renditions of Izlude and Meliadoul are good enough for you! Good luck with your story, too, I always enjoy reading it.  
  
Thank you for reading! Incidently, I have another FFT fic, _Predator_, that I'd like to hear some more opinions about. I'm always looking to improve, no matter the story!  
  
_Those Left Behind_, third story: Orpheus' Dilemma or The Love That Transcended Life' (8/09)


	36. TLB: Orpheus' Dilemma

Those Left Behind  
  
Story #3: Orpheus' Dilemma  
or  
The Love That Transcended Life  
  
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic  
  
By Tenshi no Ai  
  
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

_I understand that he loves me. I love him too, and our time together has been, for the most part, wonderful. But there are more important things than clinging to each other and futilely promising that everything will be okay as long as we're together.  
  
I'm selfish, but I have to be realistic too.  
  
Of course I want to stay with him. More than anything, I would love to raise a family and grow old with him. However, I also understand that he could have a life where he doesn't have to sacrifice as much to have an equally fulfilling life.'  
_-Chapter 25

-0-

He was late!  
  
The boy ran, pumping his arms by his sides as he flew out of his dormitory, his bag flying from its strap around his left arm. The ends of his fine, flaxen blond hair shifted and bounced around his ears as he dashed across the campus, too busy cursing his roommate to notice the majestic white and blue buildings that made up Lesalia Imperial Academy.  
  
_That sodding little idiot! He never wakes me up on time! If the professor drops me, I swear I'll..._  
  
He had good reason to worry as he dodged other students and the occasional faculty member. His seven-thirty in the morning class was one of the most sought after courses in the semester's catalog. It was an elective called Magical Manipulation, and under and upperclassmen fought to get into the class. This boy, an underclassman, was extremely lucky to get into the class. He knew this, and so he soundly blighted his roommate's name with every curse imaginable as he jumped over a bench in the courtyard and landed cleanly onto the well-manicured greens. Someone screamed at him, but he just ran faster.  
  
While the class had always been popular for the nobles that did not wish to pursue a career in the military, after the spring semester of Pantora forty-eight the list of people who wanted to take the class exploded. Everyone was talking about how fun the class was, how great the professor who had taken over the course was, et cetera ad nauseum. It had been the boy's first try to get the class in his fall of Pantora forty-eight schedule, and somehow he had gotten into the class.  
  
His roommate didn't, however, and in revenge he was never woken up on time.  
  
It was down to the final sprint now as the boy jerked the door to the magic building open and flung himself inside the spacious hallway. The class was the second door to the left, and he approached the door with sweaty hands. On the other side, he could hear the teacher lecturing about essences and he moaned. As gently as he could, he grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly, pulling the door open in the same manner. Practically tiptoeing, he entered the classroom and softly closed the door behind him.  
  
Not one of his classmates turned to glance at the tardy student; their eyes were riveted to the front of the room. The professor merely glanced at the boy while continuing his lecture on the sensitivity of the vertices on an elemental essence.  
  
The boy sighed as he slipped into an available seat in the back row. There were no slackers in this class. After taking out a notepad and a Goug-made pen, the latest fashion for a noble, he focused on the pertinent information the professor recited. He was kind of understanding about the points of an elemental essence and how they could be used to shape the spell, but not completely. In the front row, a girl raised her hand. There were a lot of girls in the class, and not just because of their natural ability to use magic.  
  
After the professor nodded at her, she lowered her hand. I think I understand, but could you show us a demonstration?  
  
The professor looked at all the expectant faces staring at him after the girl's question, and he smiled. That's a good idea, he spread out his hands in front of him and a glowing sphere of blue and white appeared between them after a moment's concentration. This is the essence of ice magic, he explained over the whispers of how beautiful it looked.  
  
The boy was stunned as his professor shifted one hand under the self-contained essence, using the other hand to point out the points on the sphere. The man lightly pressed the top of the ball and the essence responded, making the appropriate indentation at its top while its sides expanded. After a few such demonstrations of poking and prodding, the professor finally pulled at the top point of the essence, which spread open like a rose in hasted bloom.  
  
All the students cheered at this, and the tardy student could hear one of his classmates in front of him exclaim excitedly to her friend. See, that's why I made you join this class! Isn't Professor Kadmus so amazing?

-0-

After all his morning classes, Professor Beowulf Kadmus left his classroom and headed to the stairs of the building, climbing up to the offices on the top floor. He passed by some of the other professors heading out to lunch, greeting them with smiles that didn't quite reach his dark eyes. No one seemed to mind, though. After all, everyone knew he had been a knight in the war, which was finally in peace negotiations now due to the bedridden Sir Balbanes Beoulve. Who knew what horrible things he had seen during his tour of duty?  
  
He reached his floor and entered his office, a flicker of surprise appearing on his face before he smiled sincerely. Elly, I thought you had a class now.  
  
The woman named Elly grinned at him, standing upright from her former position of leaning on his desk. In a few minutes. But that lot gives me such a headache that I've been thinking of skipping.  
  
What sort of professor says things like that? Beowulf teased, walking over to stand next to her. I thought we could go to that concert at the square tonight, unless something's come up?  
  
No, nothing at all. It starts at six, right?  
  
Mm. And then afterwards we could go to that restaurant on Fifth.  
  
That sounds splendid.  
  
Beowulf opened his mouth to say something in the affirmative, but the noon bells chose that moment to ring throughout the university. Dimly, the bells from the local church could be heard, as it was close by. Elly lightly bit her bottom lip at that, muttering more to herself, Oh, how irritating. I guess I'd better go toss myself to that pack of cuars now. She shook her head, long blond hair bouncing around in waves as she started towards the door. She stopped when he placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her head to look at him quizzically.   
  
Before you go... he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, pulling away slightly after a minute, for luck, he whispered against her mouth, and she smiled.  
  
I could use all the luck you're willing to give, considering how popular you are, she murmured back, stepping away from him. I'll see you soon, Beowulf.  
  
He smiled and raised his hand in acknowledgment, and when she closed the door to his office his brandy-colored eyes flickered like a flame disturbed by a slight breeze.  
  
--_Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow morning, then_--  
  
But it passed and everything was right in Beowulf Kadmus' world again.

_Beowulf's name appeared for  
the last time a few months before  
the end of the Fifty Year War.  
  
Many knights who returned early  
from the war often had trouble  
fitting into society again.  
  
The knights that could often  
wished for nothing more than  
peace, working in jobs that  
served others.  
  
At this time, those knights spread  
through the calm parts of Ivalice.  
There were a number of cities  
that had jobs to offer.  
And Lesalia was no different._

---------------  
**Chapter 1: The Lost**  
---------------  
  
Many of Ivalice's oldest and most respected families lived in Lesalia Imperial Castle. The only other castle city that drew in as many aristocrats was Zeltennia Castle, but the nobles that lived in Lesalia tended to pride themselves more on their intricate generational trees that all somehow linked them to royalties past and present. Whether due to sycophantic tendencies or business, many barons, viscounts, earls, and even a few marquis and dukes made Lesalia at least a part-time home.  
  
Lady Amelia Darrow, wife of the earl of Plucelia, prided herself on being born there.  
  
She smiled lightly to herself now as she stared out of the window in the parlor of her childhood home. The lone stipulation in her mother's will over the inheritance of the stately home was that she stayed there at least half of the year. Her husband was more than willing to let her to live there year-round, asking her to keep the children as well. He visited once or twice a year, preferring to live in his native Plucelia, a tiny region to the southwest of Riovanes Castle. They were both delighted with the arrangement, and theirs was probably the most well-ordered marriage of convenience in Ivalice.  
  
Their marriage produced three children, two sons and a daughter. Both sons were currently in school in Igros. Her daughter was eleven, of age to attend boarding school, and honestly Amelia wasn't sure if she wanted her youngest child to leave her too. The thought of being alone in her childhood home at thirty-three seemed somehow anticlimactic to her. But for now she was far from lonely, and her smile widened to prove this as her eyes caught sight of two people walking towards the manor on this blustery January afternoon. The people soon disappeared from her vantage point, and a few minutes later she could hear the door creak open. With her small lips stretched in the widest smile to grace her face in years, she stood up and walked from the parlor to the vestibule, each step tiny but well-placed.  
  
As she entered the sparse but comfortably decorated entrance hall, she was greeted by the younger of the two people. Good afternoon, Mum!  
  
Don't shout, Caitlyn, Amelia murmured, walking over to her exuberant daughter and patting the girl's head, brushing off some snowflakes from the dark brown hair that was so much like her own. I can't believe you went out without a proper cloak, she fussed lightly. The young girl shook her head vehemently at this.  
  
But it's no fun to go out in the snow all swaddled up! It's much nicer to let the snow fall on you, and to catch them on the tip of your tongue... At her mother's darkening look, she grinned disarmingly. A-and, Sir Uncle lent me his cloak when the snow began to fall a bit heavily.  
  
Amelia shook her head at this, thick locks of hair falling over her shoulders. So then, you let your uncle freeze? Next time, child, think of how others feel. She glanced at the other entrant, who was trying to stealthily escape. And Beowulf, if you're going to take her out on walks, do make sure she's well equipped for it.  
  
Now it was her brother's turn to smile charmingly. Sis, you make it sound like we were going off to battle some large monster, not go on an hour-long walk.  
  
Whatever. Caitlyn, Cook has lunch ready for you.  
  
Yes Mum.  
  
As soon as her daughter left, Amelia sighed. You really don't mind that she calls you that? If you tell her it bothers you, she'll stop immediately. She took quite the liking to you.  
  
Beowulf shrugged. It doesn't bother me. Sorry about the cloak.  
  
I really should be thanking you. With her brothers off in school, she's become rather lonely, she gave her younger brother a searching look, I suppose we both have.  
  
It's nothing, really. You've raised her very well.  
  
I suppose I'm used to it, Amelia grinned, though it looked a bit uncomfortable. How're you feeling now? Better?  
  
Her younger brother looked embarrassed now. From that bout of the flu? Yeah, don't worry about it.  
  
The grin dropped from her face as she approached him, placing her hand on his upper arm. Not that. I mean about your Miss Dular. Are you coping well?  
  
Define coping well', Sis, the rude retort was at odds with the smile that he seemed determined to keep, I'm fine, and lunch sounds really good right now, he walked away, letting her hand slip from his arm. At the end of the parlor he glanced back, an innocent look now gracing his face. Are you joining us?  
  
In a minute, little brother, she answered quietly, watching him disappear into the hallway. Every time she brought up the reason why he was here, he always brushed her off with a flippant remark and changed the subject. While this was certainly in character for her dear brother, she couldn't help but push. It was her duty as his elder sister to bother him incessantly until he told her how he really felt.  
  
But the standard had been set during their first conversation.  
  
_Ever since he had arrived, in the last days of Pantora forty-seven, Amelia had been in an absolute tizzy. The last time he had visited, she had found him sitting innocently in the parlor, wearing that horrid Holy Knight uniform. This time, he hadn't even the energy to knock on the door. That's what the chocobo did, tapping its large beak against the nice oak door. He was lying on her doorstep.  
  
The flu, the chemist had stated. She'd wanted to slap him. Anyone with the ability to discern the difference in temperatures could've come to that conclusion. Plenty of fluids and rest, he had ordered.  
  
The rest didn't seem to be a problem, seeing as her brother had been unconscious during the doctor's exam.  
  
After a couple of days, he seemed to be coming around. He muttered things in a guttural tone, then drifted off again. Amelia was fine with this, it showed he was still among the living. She shooed away her inquisitive and too-helpful daughter and watched over Beowulf exclusively.  
  
On the third day, she woke from a nap in her uncomfortable chair to a hoarser version of her brother's voice. he mumbled a few times, causing his sister to remember the contents of his last letter, the one that enthusiastically stated that he was engaged with his lovely Miss Dular. Where was the girl now, Amelia couldn't help but wonder, and why wasn't she with Beowulf?  
  
On the fourth day, her brother was awake and coherent when she awoke from her slumber. Sis, nice to see you again, he smiled, then coughed.  
  
I would say the same if you were the picture of health. Your chocobo saved your life, dear brother. At Beowulf's blank look, she remembered that he had a fairly bad memory and he -was- currently ill as well. The chocobo that took you from Lionel to here, which would be Lesalia if you can't quite remember...  
  
Right, right, I remember now. My old room?  
  
Newly fixed up so you wouldn't infect anyone else.  
  
he looked distinctly less than amused, and my things?  
  
Amelia gestured vaguely behind her. The nice piece of luggage and the bag. There was silence between the siblings as he nodded, then she took a deep breath and asked, Why are you alone, Beowulf?  
  
An odd look flashed in his dark eyes and he rolled over, his back now to her. Can we talk when I'm feeling better, Sis?  
  
I'd like to know what happened to my future sister-in-law as soon as possible if I could, little brother. This was said quietly, a hint of a razor's edge in her tone. It was never in her to leave well enough alone.  
  
He began to cough again, a long session of hacking from deep within clogged lungs. Reaching out with a mug of lemon tea, she offered it to him but he waved it away, his back still obstinately to her. She's...she's dead, the words were forced up roughly through his raw throat, and I really don't want to talk about it right now.  
  
...Of course, the brunette whispered, taking his words as gracefully as she could. She rose from her seat, an antique she was ready to use as firewood after days of sitting and worrying in it. There is a cup of tea on the table next to you. I think you should get some rest now.  
  
He didn't say anything, and when she leaned over his still form she saw that he'd drifted into a restless sleep._  
  
The expression on the noblewoman's face hardened as she walked into the hallway, deliberately passing by the dining room with barely a glance inside. That was something that was typically Beowulf, something she had never cared about her younger brother.  
  
He was always very good at drifting away from the harsh things.

-0-

Snowflakes spiraled prettily from the gray skies, aimlessly falling upon the imported shingles and remodeled buildings that made up Lesalia's Upper End. No two flakes were exactly alike, but they all succumbed the same way to gravity. The shapes of each snowflake reflected off of foreign-made windows, and when reflected through the contemplative eyes behind one window each flake took on the same deep tint like that of an expensive after-dinner brandy.  
  
_She should've been here to see this._  
  
Beowulf often indulged in these sort of thoughts. Everything he looked at with those dark eyes, no matter how mundane, how absolutely common it was, often made him think of her. Her, and her reactions.  
  
_I think she would've liked it. The snow blankets the town very nicely. I wonder if she would've liked it better than Bariaus Valley?_  
  
The thought brought the barest glimmer of a smile on his face. Places were simply places to him. In the end, there was always some horrible price to pay for the honor of staying there. But he'd liked the valley. He had a lot of good memories there, all of them with her. Maybe that had been the same with her.  
  
_I think she would've liked the valley more. She always seemed more fond of being outdoors, or maybe it was because of..._  
  
He couldn't finish the thought. If he did, then he would spend time wondering if it was nature she liked more, or him. Sometime...sometime he would've liked to ask her which it was. Even if she had been with him that very moment, so many dorma away from Bariaus Valley, he still would've liked to ask her, just for fun.  
  
They should've been having lots of fun today. Today was her birthday.  
  
_I wonder what we would've been doing today. Shuffling around in the snow and seeing the town completely covered in white, or would we have even bothered to get out of bed?_  
  
It wasn't in Beowulf's general mindset to worry about would-have-beens and should-have-beens. He chose a path and tried his hardest not to look back, only giving into the temptation when he was about to change paths again. But right now it was terribly important for him to ponder the details of what would've been her twenty-second birthday. He'd pushed her away when it came to his own. Now that he thought about it, why had he? It would've been that much longer they would've spent together, that much longer he could've recalled now.  
  
He was tearing himself up with all these thoughts, he knew that much. Bloody ripping himself to shreds, even. He didn't mind it so much, though. It was what he deserved for being the one left alive, the one she'd thrown her own life away for.  
  
It didn't surprise him very much to find that he was enjoying his self-imposed purgatory.  
  
The snowflakes danced before his eyes, clumsily disorganized in their performance but propped up by their enthusiasm. In his mind's eye, a memory was being played, one with the image of her holding his hand and shyly asking if he had the time to watch the sunset with her.  
  
He smiled.  
  
--knoknok--  
  
The sound startled him, and immediately after he regained his bearing he felt ashamed. For what, he wasn't quite sure. He took a deep breath and glanced out of the window again, finally seeing the snowflakes dancing merrily before him. Come in, he called without turning around.  
  
Ah, so you were awake, said his sister cheerfully as she entered his room. I've got something I think you might like.  
  
He turned around at this, hope lighting up his eyes. Riovanes Sweets...oh, his enthusiasm disappeared as soon as he saw the paper in her hands. She giggled as she gave it to him, charmed by how he could become that little boy that she had devoted so much time into raising. Glancing at the notice, one of his eyebrows raised at its contents.

_ Lesalia Imperial Academy now looking  
for new professors to start the new term.  
Subjects include:  
Magic, Battle Tactics, Weaponry.  
Please apply in person._

Am I that much of an inconvenience? he wondered aloud. His sister shook her head fiercely at this.  
  
Not at all! It's just...I think it's a good idea for you to focus on something. You seem so gloomy lately, brother. Gently, she touched his shoulder and he glanced at her, a dullness to his eyes. Of course I understand why, but I don't think...certainly, you still have much of your own life left.  
  
_I wonder what she would've said if I told her that I was going to become a professor._ He chuckled, drawing a put-upon look from Amelia. And if I said that I've been focusing on you and Caitlyn?  
  
Oh, that's not even a proper excuse. You still find ample time to sit around and mope. I'd think that it'd do you good to be surrounded by energetic young people. She smiled, her green eyes alight with excitement as she said, I think you'd make a fine professor!  
  
The gloom that had firmly settled over the man seemed right now as if it had never existed. But big crowds make me nervous, Sis, he grinned.  
  
She scoffed at this, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. Oh, now you're not even trying. You've been in war, it's the same thing here. A preemptive attack and every student will immediately respect you. Keep attacking and don't let those brats regroup and toss you about, she grinned almost viciously as he stared at her in shock, that's how the professors taught in that aristocratic school I attended, although sometimes we still got the better of them.  
  
...I bet you were leading all the students in revolt, he said lovingly, shaking his head in amusement as her grin grew wider. I suppose it can't hurt to try. But I don't have any credentials.  
  
Hm...during the interview, just mention that Father used to work there, she looked thoughtful. Beowulf said nothing, although old memories about his childhood dampened his good mood, they really like hearing about that sort of thing, especially if you layer on how you've been trained in magic by both the war and the Church. After all, Dad was a professor of magic. Glancing at him, she frowned slightly at his foreboding expression. Will you do it?  
  
_...Why not? It's worth a try. She's right, what I'm doing isn't healthy at all._ Beowulf nodded slowly. Alright, I'll try.  
  
_Besides...it'd be disrespectful to Reis if I just wasted away the life she saved..._

-0-

...And this is the process in which a spell is fueled. Can someone tell me why a physical liquid like ethers would help replenish the purely endurance-related factor of magic power depletion? Beowulf Kadmus looked out at the room full of students after his question, his expression benign.  
  
A few students raised their hands while others looked down at their notes in either a real or staged attempt at finding the answer. He pointed at one boy in the front row. Well, um...because it's like a potion. It's healing an injury.  
  
Beowulf smiled encouragingly. That's a good start, although I just said it was purely endurance-related'. He noticed a girl in the back of the class who was timidly holding her hand up next to her head. Do you know the answer, miss?  
  
An ether artificially stimulates the areas in the body that regulate levels of magic power, tricking the body into thinking that it has more than enough power to expend on magic, the girl glanced up at her professor's expectant face and blushed, and that's why the main side-effect of ether abuse is exhaustion, because sleep is the only natural way the body has to replenish its magic.  
  
Beowulf was about to say more, but the bells rang and he smiled instead. Good job everyone, and I'll see you on Thursday. The students jumped up from their seats and left the room in a flurry of gathering materials and friends, leaving him alone in the classroom after a few scant minutes. He kept the self-satisfied smile on his face as he left his room, making his way to his office on the top floor.  
  
It surprised him how much he enjoyed teaching. Initially he had a few misgivings. He'd never attended school himself, forced to scrounge for knowledge because of his mother's severe apathy towards him, so he hadn't know anything about the environment of an academy. His sister had regaled him with stories of her own boarding school years, and his resulting feelings afterward were mainly of shock and morbid curiosity. While she was called a noblewoman now, it certainly seemed that she was anything but in her younger years.  
  
The surprise he felt after receiving a job as a professor of magic at the prestigious university was only rivaled by the amazement he held regarding his students. They were polite, intelligent, and for the most part more than willing to learn. Beowulf supposed that it was due more to the intense drilling of manners that most children of aristocrats received during their childhood than anything having to do with him, but he was grateful all the same.  
  
He felt like he was finally making up for all the horrible things he had done in his life.  
  
Here in Lesalia Imperial Academy, he was given the opportunity to teach cadets and regular nobles alike how to properly use magic. They didn't have to learn it as he did, a last-ditch attack to save his own life. And, God willing, they would never have to learn the more creative ways to murder another human with magic like he had to. In many ways, teaching wasn't so much different from his last role as a leader, except that there was more talking involved. He liked to talk, so it worked out well.  
  
He often imagined that she would've liked his new job.

-0-

Smile, little brother. You look like a bore to be around right now.  
  
Really. Can I go back, then?  
  
  
  
A touch put off by Amelia's tone, Beowulf refrained from saying anything more. The two were walking arm-in-arm towards a stately, newly-renovated manor a few blocks from their home. The warm July evening had prompted the elder of the two to suggest walking over instead of arranging a chocobo-drawn carriage, even if the hem of her elegant evening gown risked being ruined by the brisk walk over. For his part, Beowulf hadn't wanted to go--he hadn't even known about the party in the first place--preferring to relax in the wake of his summer break from the academy. But his sister was very persuasive when she wanted to be.  
  
--_Oh, I see how it is, I certainly do. You come crawling to me, take up residence here again, get a job with my help, and then when I ask you for one simple favor you suddenly think that you have the right to refuse? Hah, that's very funny. Get dressed_--  
  
Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those times.  
  
He sighed, drawing a glare from her. _Oh, this is shaping up to be one of the better nights of my life_, he grumbled to himself as he caught the first glimpse of all the nobles gathering at the front door of the mansion. _At least the last time I went to something like this, it was with someone who appreciated me._  
  
From the walk up to the front door to entering the grand estate, the former knight endured countless introductions with people he had never even heard of but were all apparently the elite of Lesalia's nobility. As soon as his elder sister mentioned to a friend of hers that he was her handsome bachelor of a brother, it seemed that there was a growing amount of young women at the edges of his peripheral vision. A few ventured forth, and he couldn't bring himself to be any more than coolly polite to these ladies. He caught the concerned glances his sister kept sending him, and she never strayed far from his arm, helpfully deterring many of the eligible women from pursuing more than an introduction. He appreciated this, and in return he became more receptive to the evening's festivities.  
  
Every time he was introduced to someone, he wanted to turn and introduce Reis to them.  
  
_I don't think she would've liked this, though._ He smiled absently at something his sister told a friend, unable to keep from sinking into his usual thoughts. _There would've been no reason for her, for either of us to be here. Probably wouldn't even have known about this unless Sis dragged us along. Though, it would've been a good excuse to pull out that Holy Knight dress of hers..._  
  
his sister hissed while shaking him, disturbing a pleasant image from a memory only a year old. He looked at her questioningly, and she merely tilted her head up, gesturing for him to look ahead. Slightly perturbed, he looked over and the incessant chatter seemed to drain from the room, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.  
  
It wasn't that the woman was particularly beautiful. She was very pretty, what with the gold curls flowing down to her waist and bouncing around her generous figure, though a certain amount of stress pinched her face. Sea-green eyes conveyed a sense of self dignity, though not so much that it would be considered cold. Her gait was measured and full of confidence, her head held high as if to counter her relatively short stature.  
  
He didn't know why, but there was something about her that reminded him of Reis.  
  
She approached them and, although she had glanced at Beowulf, her full attention was on Amelia. Lady Plucelia, she curtsied after using the older woman's true title, I'm surprised to see you here. You don't come to these soirees as often as we would like.  
  
You'll forgive me, but an evening with my family is often enough for my old body, considering the attention they demand, the brunette joked. Beowulf wasn't sure what to make of that, but it strangely put him at ease. His sister seemed to like this woman. Oh, let me introduce you. Elly, this is my brother, Beowulf Kadmus. Beowulf, she caught his eye, and he frowned in confusion at the odd look glimmering within her olive eyes, this is Ellyce Oaks.  
  
It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Kadmus, Ellyce smiled. Beowulf smiled back, his first true smile of the night.  
  
A pleasure to meet you, Lady Oaks... _wait, how does she know..._ Excuse me, have we met before?  
  
Her smile widened, showing white teeth behind coral lips. No, I've heard a bit about you at the academy.  
  
Something clicked inside his mind. Oh, so you're a student, he figured out aloud, and was immediately taken aback when she began to laugh.  
  
No, no...though I do appreciate the compliment. I'm a professor as well, of battle tactics. I've been there just about four years ongoing now.  
  
I see. Battle tactics? Were you a knight once?  
  
Not at all. It runs in the family though. My father used to serve for the Touten, and my younger sister... her expression soured briefly before she shook her head and tried to smile, well, currently she's a knight at Saint Konoe Academy. With all the stories Father tells, it was easy enough to seek a job having to do with that sort of thing. Are you a knight?  
  
It was Beowulf's turn for a dour look to fall upon his face. I...used to be.  
  
Oh, I see. I apologize. It must've been very difficult for you.  
  
War is difficult for everyone, naturally, he glanced around the room, dark eyes taking in the extravagance of the party, well, mostly everyone, he amended, a sardonic little grin punctuating the remark. She laughed in such a way that it was obvious she laughed often, appealing to something inside him.  
  
It's certainly true, though a bit sad as well, the woman shook her head slightly in amusement before suddenly frowning. You'll have to excuse me, I was actually looking for my brother through this lot, and it seems I have a bit more searching to do. She smiled again, murmuring, Good night, Professor Kadmus.  
  
Good night, Professor Oaks, he said, watching her take her leave and meander into a large crowd of various nobility. _She seems like a very nice woman_, he thought as he glanced over to his left and realized that his sister had left during the conversation. _That's odd_, he shrugged mentally and went off in search for her, feeling much better about the night than he had before.  
  
_If Reis were here, I'm sure she would've liked Miss Oaks as well._

-0-

Lesalia was not a place adversely affected by the summer. Indeed, it often defied the standard ideal of heat and sunshine, letting the rain dominate the season's customs. In this manner did the summer fade into autumn, and Beowulf and Ellyce's friendship bloomed into something unusual.  
  
Contrary to the persona he showed, that of the charming and confident fill-in-the-job-here, he was unsure of himself when it came to women. He got along well with many, if not most of them, and he wasn't shy at all. There was just something in him that made him pause. Part of the reason why he had such a high regard for Reis was because he didn't feel as if he needed to step back and assess the situation.  
  
She was just right there, somehow vulnerable and independent all at once.  
  
He hadn't figured out what had initially made him think that Ellyce was in any way similar to his lost love. They didn't look or act alike. Reis had been mostly sedate even right before her death, a depth to her actions and feelings that surprised and intrigued Beowulf. Ellyce was quick with her words, moderating her easily stoked emotions with a self-possession that was admirable. What was harder for him to admit, especially to himself, was that it was also attractive.  
  
She was attractive in a way that Reis had never been.  
  
It bothered him. It honestly did. The woman he had once planned to marry hadn't even been gone for a year, and yet he was thinking of replacing her with another...  
  
_No, Ellyce isn't a -replacement-_, he argued with himself as he stared out of the window of his room, _she's just a friend right now. A good friend. And Reis can never be replaced. Ever.  
  
Just because she's not here doesn't mean that she's gone._  
  
It was an odd thought, but a very true one. It was easier for him to admit that he still was in love with her. She'd been taken away from him so suddenly that he'd never gotten any closure. She was still a very real part of his day-to-day thoughts, ones that skirted the surface of his mind and sometimes fooled him into turning around at the sound of light footsteps, or to spread out an arm across his pillow for her head to rest on.  
  
He looked down. Balancing on the windowsill was his heirloom, the pitcher-shaped stone with the Aquarius rune engraved into it. It was taken out during the one time he opened her suitcase, and he had closed it immediately afterward. Somehow, he felt as if going through her things would violate her privacy. But he felt no qualms about taking out the first gift he had given her. As far as he was concerned, it was still hers. He just wanted to look at it.  
  
--knoknok--  
  
Beowulf called out, lifting his gaze from the strangely hypnotic waves that glittered on the stone. He'd never noticed it before, but the stone felt as if there was magic lurking within it.  
  
Amelia entered his room, quietly closing the door behind her. The smile on her face was nervous, unlike the confidence he was so used to seeing on her attractive face. Hello, Beowulf. How are you?  
  
_Well, that's strange_, he thought while watching her carefully. Fine. And you?  
  
Well, I'm somehow still alive. I received a letter from Thomas today, she answered, a bit of maternal pride seeped into her unsure smile, he and his brother will be visiting during their winter break.  
  
That's good.  
  
I'm wondering if you're planning on courting Elly, she suddenly said, her tone demanding, I think it'd be a good idea if you are.  
  
Her brother frowned. What brought this on?  
  
The fact that I'm not blind, Amelia retorted, errantly pushing back locks of her brown hair from her face. You seem to have an interest towards her, but you aren't pursuing her. Why?  
  
Why do you think? Annoyed at this impropriety, he turned around to face the window again.  
  
She made a movement as if to reach out to him, but instead she bit her lip. I'm sorry. I know that your Miss Dular meant a great deal to you. But...do you honestly think she would've wanted you to sit around and deny yourself a part of what makes life worthwhile?  
  
His frown deepened. Which would be?  
  
Now his sister was getting annoyed as well. Living, little brother. A family of your own. Moving on and letting her finally rest. Don't you appreciate her that much?  
  
That was too much for the man. Beowulf spun away from the window, eyes flaring with something desperate. I don't appreciate that she's gone!  
  
Then don't! she shouted back, hands clenched at her sides. But you have to realize that you're alive, that you have a lot of your life left to live! You told me once that she sacrificed her life so that you could live on. How could you ever say that you respected her when you dig her up in your mind every day?  
  
He wanted to shout, to scream that he hadn't asked his beloved Reis to do a damn thing for him, much less throw away her life for him. Ever since he found out what she had done, he had thought of what would've happened if Buremonda's spell had hit its intended target. It should've, he maintained, and he would've gladly died so that she could live. Even if she had felt the same way regarding herself, it mattered more that he was the one the spell was supposed to have hit. She should've lived!  
  
But every time he opened his eyes, he was still here.  
  
He was still alive.  
  
I'm sorry, Amelia murmured, breaking into his thoughts, I just want you to be happy. If I felt that you were happier drowning in your memories, I would leave you alone, her voice took on a pleading tone as she gazed up at him, her eyes filled with concern and worry, but look at yourself. I'm sure that even you have figured out that you're not happy like this. You're reaching out to Elly, and I think it would be a shame if you stopped now.  
  
I'm not asking you to forget, I'm asking you to move on.  
  
_Is it really that easy?_ Beowulf wondered uneasily. Unsteadily, he nodded. Let me...let me just think about it. I...just let me think.  
  
Of course. With remarkably clear eyes, Amelia turned and left his room, leaving him to his thoughts.  
  
_Move on? That's almost like...like shoveling that last bit of dirt on her and walking away. Such a wonderful, amazing woman...and that's all she gets?_  
  
His heartbeat was rapid as he turned back to the window, picking up the stone and rolling it around in his hand. Letting go and moving on made him strangely uneasy, even though he had long accepted that she was never going to tilt her head and give him one of her tiny, cherished smiles again. However, this was almost too painful, almost unnecessary in its coldness.  
  
It was closure.  
  
_But I know Reis would've wanted this._ She'd expected the same for a much lesser inability than the loss of life. He hadn't let go then. Now...now it was different.  
  
And that hurt.

_I still have my life to live.  
When it came down to it  
I knew I had to move on.  
  
_-0-

In the present time, October of Pantora forty-eight, Beowulf Kadmus continued on with his day, teaching four more classes before heading home and getting ready for his date that night. It was an enjoyable one, complete with dinner and a stroll before parting ways.  
  
And in the comfort of the large bed in his childhood home, he dreamt.

----------  
**Chapter 2: Those Who Forget, Those Who Are Never Forgotten**  
----------  
  
_She was interesting, Beowulf decided. Beautiful and interesting.  
  
Currently he and Reis were in Lionel Castle's shopping area, which consisted of a long street in front of the town's south entrance. They had just eaten and were now in the process of looking for a cloth shop. It was embarrassing for him, the leader of Lionel's military and resident of the largest city in Lionel, to claim that he had no clue where this shop could possibly be. He had racked his brain for some spare memory about the shop's location. Surely he had strolled by it while on patrol?  
  
Frustrated at his poor memory, he glanced to his right again, where Reis placidly walked beside him. She had a blank look on her face, on par for her from what he could tell. Still, even with no expression, her profile was very pleasant. Her hair and clothes swayed in time with her graceful walk, and he wondered how she'd learned to keep such a measured stride. It seemed almost battle-ready.  
  
Just like that punch she threw at me earlier, he thought while smiling at her, she's nothing like just a mindless drone from Murond. She's just too interesting.  
  
Her momentarily blinking in confusion was the only warning he received before she glanced up at him, large light brown eyes shimmering with curiosity. she asked in a deliberate manner, her pale lips forming the single-syallable word almost carefully. The image of the tip of her pink tongue moving behind her white teeth was one that was going to stick in his mind for days, not to talk of her luscious lips...  
  
What am I thinking? First thing's first. He smiled sheepishly as he said, Nothing, I was just trying to remember anything that might help us. Though, an explanation of why he needed to look at her while doing so wasn't forthcoming at the moment, to his dismay.  
  
She kept her eyes on him for a long moment, her expression displaying slight dubiousness at his words. she finally said, turning her gaze before her once again. Beowulf really wasn't sure what to make of that. Not for the first time he wanted to take a look inside her mind; he definitely wasn't going to get any insight on her inner workings with simple conversation just yet.  
  
There were people everywhere on this fine spring day, and he briefly entertained the thought of asking someone for directions to the hidden cloth shop . Certainly they'd finally get somewhere with their search. However, he was still clinging onto the idea of looking somewhat good to her. Plus, he didn't want to part ways with her just yet. Perhaps he could get her to open up somehow. She was capable of acting out of her normal persona; he'd realized that when she had greeted him earlier with a punch and then proceeded to yell at him.  
  
Hopefully I won't purposefully inspire -that- anymore, he thought while surreptitiously glancing at her again, not if I can help it at least. I just need something to say, something... It's a nice day today, isn't it?  
  
...Oh, -that's- bloody original.  
  
She looked back at him again, appearing to be thoughtfully considering his question. It is, isn't it? I really like days like this, she smiled faintly.  
  
Wow, she responded well to that, the thought flitted through his mind while he blinked in surprise. Isn't it like this in Murond this time of the year as well? he asked, trying to capitalize on this opening.  
  
The interest in her eyes dulled. I suppose. I didn't go out all that often.  
  
...Well, that's alright. You can always do that here. Especially if we can't find that shop today, he amended to himself.  
  
...That's true. Though... An odd look formed on her face, one that looked to Beowulf as if it were of some sort of shy embarrassment. I'm not really interested if I'm by myself.  
  
Beowulf ruthlessly suppressed the urge to put his arm around her. She was as skittish as a wild chocobo, and there was the good chance she might hit him, run off and tell Buremonda. That didn't look like a pleasant itinerary for the afternoon. Reis, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends, he assured her instead, wondering if it were prudent for him to volunteer his services, and I wouldn't mind going out with you any time you wanted.  
  
She blinked in surprise before reddening slightly, a tiny, embarrassed smile lighting up her face. I couldn't impose on you like that, she murmured, not after today.  
  
He supposed it was a good thing she hadn't caught the other meaning in his offer. Don't worry about it, he laughed. It was so easy to do so with her around. I'm a Shrine Knight, at the beck and call of all church members, at her inquisitive expression he smiled widely, especially a pretty cataloguer like you.  
  
Amazingly, while she looked extremely flustered, his bold flirting didn't seem to scare her off. ...That's...if those are the services you render, then...I'm a bit surprised there aren't more cataloguers around for you to cater to. While the delivery was flawed, at the end of it she seemed very calm, even employing something of a smirk.  
  
He didn't know what to say, but he was sure it had something to do with how she was the only cataloguer he was interested in catering to.  
  
God, what an interesting woman..._  
  
Beowulf awoke slowly, surrounded by the dark of his room. There was only the sound of his shallow breathing in his ears as he stared at the ceiling and thought back on the dream he just had.  
  
The memory.  
  
His lips curved into a small, sad smile under the cloak of the night.  
  
_She definitely was._

-0-

Leaves of red and orange fell around Beowulf's form as he briskly made his way from the academy to his home. It was early afternoon, cloudy and breezy, and he didn't feel all that put out from having his afternoon classes cut short by some assembly. He didn't know if he had to attend as well, and truthfully he didn't care at the moment. The leaves that danced and swirled aimlessly in the air looked better than anything he'd have to see inside the auditorium anyway.  
  
Reaching his home, he strode through the atrium, his footsteps clacking softly on the wooden floor. Out of curiosity, he looked into the small parlor where his sister normally spent her days. She was there now, bundled in a soft cream blanket that went well with her indoors dress of light blue with white trim. Beowulf, good afternoon, she said, smiling. She waved him over with the book she held in her right hand. Join me for tea.  
  
With good cheer he did as she asked, sitting down across from her at the small table. What's that? he asked, pointing at her book. Shrugging, she put it down on her lap.  
  
Middling to good poetry collection. She wrapped the blanket around her body tightly. The better ones are written by knights, can you believe that?  
  
He was about to respond when one of the maids, a young woman with blond hair tied in a bun, entered the room and made her way over to their table, depositing a silver tray full of matching tea implements. Cecilia, go get another cup for my brother, Amelia paused, and the sugar as well. Young Cecilia did as she was told, coming back in a minute with the cup and a sugar holder. With a quiet simplicity, she poured the tea into the two cups, bowed, then left.  
  
Beowulf watched the maid leave. I didn't know you hired another maid.  
  
She was recently fired from the Dosserey home, and I'd been wanting to hire her for some time, the elder of the two shrugged as she delicately lifted up her cup. One woman's stupidity is another's gain.  
  
You really don't like any of your neighbors, do you? he commented, scooping sugar into his cup.  
  
Should I have to put up with such insufferable idiots? That's the problem with the nobility, she took a small sip from her cup, setting it down and reaching for a biscuit, they don't test for the actual quality.  
  
Experimentally, he took a sip from his cup and deemed the tea sweet enough. Would any of us really pass, Sis? His tone was light, yet the question was anything but.  
  
She paused from her small bites into the gingerbread used in conjunction with wintertime teas. Honestly? Probably not. So then, what should separate us from the commoners?  
  
he glanced at her, the red of his eyes dull with the low lighting, we're not any different from them. He could see in her eyes that she didn't care, and he focused his attention on his tea and the biscuits. There was a quiet moment between the two siblings, a rare one indeed as they were both talkative people. Beowulf finished off his cup of tea and his sister poured him another one. He scooped in more of the finely ground sugar, itching to fill the air with something. So, where's Caitlyn?  
  
At her tutor's.  
  
Shouldn't she be in a proper school by now?  
  
Amelia sighed, looking years older than her early thirties now, yes, but...I don't know. It's really my own inability.  
  
'Your own'? You can't choose a school for her?  
  
No, that's not it, not exactly...  
  
Beowulf leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly in confusion. But you sent your sons away to school. What makes your daughter any different?  
  
The smile on his sister's face was one of sad embarrassment as she pulled on the ends of her dark hair. I'm a bit lonely, little brother. I guess I'm holding her back with that, and she's never complained. And quite honestly, I don't want to mold her into the perfect little noblewoman.  
  
He looked at Amelia with gentle understanding. Well, I'm here, so you don't have to feel too lonely.  
  
That's kind of you to say, but I'm always afraid that you're going to leave again, she smiled with some of her usual sharpness at his blank expression, pathetic, isn't it?  
  
He shook his head, dispelling her worries with one of his good-natured grins. Don't worry, Sis. I don't have a reason to leave.

-0-

_No man in Ivalice could be as lucky as Beowulf Kadmus thought he was. After all, he was dating the very gorgeous, very enchanting Reis Dular.  
  
Although he had initially thought her to be shy, it appeared now that she was actually just really reserved. Whatever it was, it had to do with the lingering streak of resistance he observed in her demeanor. She was obviously not going to just fall into his admittedly open arms.  
  
That just attracted him even more.  
  
She was across the table from him, silently going through her meal, a light vegetable soup for lunch. That was another thing he had noticed about her, that she didn't eat very much. He wondered if this was because of the fact that he always insisted on paying for their meals.  
  
That's kind of cute, he thought in an amused tone as he took a sip of tea, she's stubborn, but she's not overbearing about it. I like that.  
  
He hadn't found anything to dislike about her yet.  
  
Are you enjoying your meal, Reis? he asked as she reached over for her own cup of tea. She looked up at him and smiled slightly.  
  
Yes, it's very good. Did you enjoy yours?  
  
Yeah, I did.  
  
Her smile grew a bit wider. That's good, she replied before finishing off her soup. He smiled at that. Conversation was starting to become a mainstay with them, and what conversation it was. Although she didn't say very much, she always seemed interested in what he had to say, and always had something to ask about. Occasionally she was even witty, although he had wondered if that wasn't actually a normal part of her personality. After all, with the way she often drifted away in her thoughts, she must've had something interesting to think about.  
  
It was strange for him to analyze another person this way. Usually he concentrated on his own thoughts and problems. However, there was just something about her that innately drew him to her. He wanted to know more about her, and the way in which she was so taciturn only interested him even more.  
  
She said yes, and the resulting dates led up to this moment.  
  
And she's still amazing, he nodded to himself, and she likes me. God, I'm lucky. What are you thinking about? This was a random question for him, but he honestly wanted to know. Reis was visibly surprised at the question, slightly frowning in a way that seemed more to herself than a reproach to him.  
  
Well, I was thinking that I was going to really dislike going back to work, her eyes flickered up to his face for a bare second before she gazed into her teacup. I'm having such a nice time right now.  
  
He was happy that she was satisfied at the moment, but also concerned about the matter of her work. Buremonda had told him the barest details regarding why she was being transferred over, that she was a cataloguer who could translate ancient Ivalician dialects. What's wrong with your work?  
  
She grimaced, looking unhappy as she looked up at him with those captivating eyes. It's really boring, she confessed, filing away books back in Murond was more exciting.  
  
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Beowulf studied the slight distress in her facial features, noting the way her lips were thinned and the overall tightness of her cheeks. What are you doing, exactly? It's just translating, right?  
  
Yes...I guess I'm just complaining unnecessarily, she sighed, still looking downcast, I should be grateful that I was even chosen.  
  
Hm, what can I say? I think I understand how you feel. Sometimes my job gets on my nerves too, he attempted to put a cheerful spin on his words, but it was hard to hide the bitterness he had, still had after all these years.  
  
Heaven wasn't worth the price of his job.  
  
Oh, really? Light brown eyes looked up at him expectantly, and he felt obligated to try and cheer her up, even if his example had very dark undertones. Why, exactly?  
  
Because I'm actually extremely indecisive.  
  
  
  
Oh, really. I can't stand having to make life-or-death decisions immediately, if at all. Sometimes it's hard just to decide what to have for breakfast, he grinned at her incredulous expression, but don't tell anybody. I'm trying to keep morale up.  
  
...I see. I'm surprised...I'd think that a leader would be decisive and willing to make hard decisions quickly, as she said this, there was confusion lurking within her sepia gaze, you seem like the type who could, I think.  
  
He sighed dramatically. I know, and most of the time I can, but sometimes even a leader has a moment of weakness, keeping up the pretense, he couldn't help but let an embittered thought run through his mind: Not as many as I do, though, but you're the only person I can trust with that.  
  
The look on her face was unbelieving. If you say so, but...you're so confident, so it's surprising... she looked down, that expression still on her face, especially for you...  
  
Everybody has a side to them that would surprise anybody else, he looked at her penetratingly, inwardly surprised when she stared back steadily, especially you.  
  
Lightly, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, wetting it and catching his complete attention. Even though he thought about it often, he hadn't tried to kiss her yet. For all her vaunted intellect, she was as innocent as anyone who was a ward of the Church should be. I don't know about that, she looked at him, and the thought that she seemed lost crossed through his mind not for the first time, I think I'd like that, though.  
  
You will, he replied, his gaze moving upward from her enticing lips to her soulful eyes, I'm sure it's as incredible as the rest of you. This was said lightly, and something in him wanted to reach out to her as she looked down, slight embarrassment crossing her face._  
  
In the early morning darkness that flooded his room, Beowulf sighed and rolled over onto his back. The memory was an odd one to dream about, considering how mundane it had been in the course of their relationship.  
  
It bothered him.

-0-

In the tiny, casual restaurant known mainly for its exquisite desserts, the sight of Ellyce Oaks sipping delicately from a cup of cocoa topped with cream was startling. Perhaps this had to do with the clientele, none of them who sat with the ramrod-straight poise that she held in the cozy booth. The drab interior contrasted with her flowing, elegant dress that fit her figure well. It was obvious to all who glanced in her direction that she didn't belong in such an environment.  
  
She glanced at the man sitting across from her, a smile flitting across her face as she observed how happy he seemed with his slice of caramel lace cheesecake. Is it really that good, Beowulf?  
  
Smiling boyishly, he looked up at her. Better than that. Are you sure you don't want a slice, Elly?  
  
Some of her natural dignity melted away into something truly beautiful within her sea-colored eyes. Oh, please don't tempt me. It looks lovely, but I'm afraid I'll never fit into my dresses after one slice.  
  
Are you sure? he teased, taking a bite of the decadent dessert, watching as her eyes seemed to light up as the morsel passed between his lips. It's very good...  
  
You're incorrigible, she mockingly turned her head away from him, taking another sip from her cup. Really, it's as if you were trying to seduce me into worshipping at that sweets store your sister says you frequent.  
  
He grinned. It's better on this side. But, whatever you like, Lady Ellyce.  
  
Have you heard? The voice was female and loud, coming from the booth behind the noblewoman. They say that Sir Balbanes has become almost too ill to keep on the battlefield.  
  
Beowulf lost his grin as he stared into Ellyce's narrowed eyes, the both of them awaiting some other bits of news. They didn't have to wait long, as another female voice jumped into the fray. Yes, it's such a pity. The cold, isn't that right? I remember hearing that he developed symptoms of that dreadful thing in forty-seven, over a year ago.  
  
Yes, the summer of it, I believe. Oh, it's a good thing this war is winding down anyway. There's a rumor that peace talks are going to start up within the next year. And if not, at least Sir Zalbag and Sir Orlandu are still able to protect us.  
  
Ellyce's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. I quite hope they leave you to rot, you sodding useless bints. At that blunt announcement, the other booth quickly became quiet. With anger brimming in her eyes, she looked at Beowulf. I'm sorry, but can we leave now? I'm worried that idiocy is catching.  
  
he answered, surprised over her sudden emotional change. He finished the thin slice of cheesecake in two bites, then stood up and held his arm out to her. Shall we go, Elly? Silently she took his arm, and they walked to the entrance of the tiny establishment and collected their coats, separating only long enough to put them on before walking into the snowy evening.  
  
she whispered. Beowulf glanced down at her. What irritating things to hear.  
  
He frowned in concern, untangling his arm from hers only to wrap it around her shoulders. She rarely allowed this in public, but right now she merely sighed. What is it? he asked kindly.  
  
Pursing her lips, she kept staring forward. Those women expecting to be protected without lifting a finger. All they know how to do is squeal for a man to save them, really... she glanced at him, uncertainty bright in her light eyes, it almost makes me regret all those terrific rows I had with my sister over her becoming a knight.  
  
I think that just shows how much you care, not wanting her to go into the war and all, he replied, hazy memories at the edges of his mind reminding him of his own entrance into the war. But, do you think she can do it?  
  
Scoffing in a very unladylike way, her eyes narrowed. She's the only one out of us Oaks that can. Father's already had his turn, Mother's too delicate, our elder brother's a right coward, and I... she turned away, taking a shuddering deep breath, really, I'm the same as those women from earlier. So then, she's it by default. It's just that she's too full of soppy ideals about how justice and honor will always pervail. One day she'll fail and have to reevaluate her ideas, and then maybe she'll be more realistic. Until then, we're better off separated.  
  
Beowulf smiled, looking up at the falling snow. It sounds like you really admire her, he chuckled as he heard her scoff again, and I think you're strong, just like...  
  
_Reis? Just like Reis? Is that it? No, I don't think so. Reis never would've shouted things like that, not out of spite. She would've had to be a lot angrier...she was a quiet, determined sort of strong._  
  
'Just like'...? Ellyce was looking at him now, and he reflexively smiled at her.  
  
Just in a different way.  
  
_And, to be honest, I don't like it as much._

-0-

_She had soft hands and a tentative touch that lingered at the sides of his face. It was pleasant, but not as much as the feel of her lips on his own. He let her control the direction of their kiss, inwardly amused at how it hadn't taking any coaxing at all. That was something he'd noticed after he'd returned from Zaland, that she seemed more forward than before. Although she'd been vague about what had happened while he was gone, he knew it had something to do with Tingel's son.  
  
Well, whatever happened, the thought rose up as she began to playfully fence with him using the tip of her tongue, it seems to have done her a lot of good.  
  
Her hands began to run down from his face to his shoulders as the moment began to wind down, a chaste kiss their encore before pulling away entirely. As his eyes began to open, he watched as her night-drenched face bloomed from an uncertain little pursing of her lips to a much more comfortable smile that lit her entire being up. Seeing this made him smile widely, and he reached up with his right hand and cupped the side of her face, a trill of pleasure running through him as she leaned into his hand.  
  
In that moment, everything seemed so clear.  
  
As he began to softly stroke her cheek with his thumb, watching her close her eyes in response, he wondered when everything became so easy. He had liked her from the first minute, when he had witnessed her coming right behind the thief with her luggage, and how she'd kept her eyes on him as she moved over to watch from behind a corner. He could appreciate a person with common sense. Only a bit later he began to sympathize with her loneliness, and he couldn't help but try to ease that. When he had thought about it later, he wasn't sure if he'd done it out of pure kindness or because he'd always wanted to try for a relationship with the enigmatic girl.  
  
Did it matter now?  
  
He wished that she would open up to him more, but he could also see that she was unsure of herself. The Church wanted simple pawns, so naturally they weren't going to help her emotional growth. He wasn't going to fault her for that; instead, he was going to try and help her. Together, they'd see who she truly was.  
  
What does she think of me?  
  
He shifted uneasily at the thought, scooting closer to where Reis sat on the stone sill with her back to the wall. His arm was going numb. She opened her eyes and stared at him curiously when he removed his hand, her eyes shining in the moonlight, and he grinned at her and patted her on the head. Reaching out with his arm, he was inwardly pleased when she moved up to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  
  
It was right then, as they both stared out towards the giant hill in the distance, that he resolved to tell her how he felt about her. Maybe she felt the same way, but was too nervous, too worried about his own reaction to say anything. Maybe she didn't feel the same way he did.  
  
He hoped to hear her low, melodious voice murmur those same words back._  
  
Through his bleary eyes, he saw the snowflakes fall past his window. In the distance, bells tolled to announce the hour to those unfortunate enough to be outside. Beowulf closed his eyes again, sinking back into a soft, dreamless sleep.  
  
_Two in the morning...what a horrid time to wake up...what day is it, anyway..._  
  
Suddenly, he sat up, eyes wide in growing horror.  
  
_It's the last day of November..._  
  
Such an unobtrusive date. A day just like any other to many people throughout Ivalice. But to Beowulf, it was a very important day, a day of tragedy that he couldn't remember but still felt deeply.  
  
Today was the one year anniversary of Reis Dular's death.

-0-

Isn't the lake so pretty when it's frozen over, Sir Uncle? Caitlyn Darrow asked excitedly, pulling Beowulf over to sit by what was in the spring and summer months a haven for various birds. Taken in by the young girl's enthusiasm, he allowed himself to be tugged over to a tree near the lake's edge.  
  
Yes, it is. But what happens to all the birds once the lake freezes?  
  
Caitlyn stared up at her uncle, a look of surprise etched upon her young features. Oh no! I've never even thought of that! She stared out at the lake, where a multitude of children and teenagers were sliding along the ice, falling over more often than not. T-they're okay, right? Quickly she whirled to face her uncle again, thick dark brown locks flying behind her uncovered head. Sir Uncle, the birds will come back, won't they?  
  
Ah...I'm sure they'll be fine. Although he taught classes to children just a few scant years older than his niece, Beowulf didn't really know how to deal with children. It hadn't helped that his students were all bred to be young adults practically out of the womb. Caitlyn was different, as her mother wanted her to have a personality. Although she was as well-mannered as a proper child of nobility, she was easily excitable.  
  
The girl examined her uncle's face for a long moment, her face bordering on a suspicious glare before she broke out in a dazzling grin that seemed to brighten the clear January day. That's wonderful! And they'll be back come May or June, though... she tugged at Beowulf's sleeve, a serious expression on her face. Where do they go?  
  
Somewhere warmer, I suppose.  
  
  
  
Wouldn't you, if you were a bird? he said, grinning, and she nodded with wide eyes.  
  
That's true. It's always so cold here, and Mum _always_ makes me wear a cloak. But don't a bird's feathers keep them warm?  
  
_There has to be an end to her questions soon_, he thought reasonably. I'm sure it's only a mild protection.  
  
Did the birds stay around in the wintertime in Lionel, then? She flinched when she caught the blank expression on his face. Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't supposed to ask anything like that. Mum always says, Caitlyn, don't bother your uncle with those sorts of questions. He might not like it, so don't be a nuisance to him.'  
  
He felt colder suddenly, and drew his cloak more tightly around himself. You're not a nuisance, Caitlyn, he smiled reassuringly at the small girl, but she didn't warm up instantly to this like she usually did.  
  
But still, you didn't like the question, she replied, her dark green eyes showing overwhelming depth for a twelve-year-old. Was it really that bad down there?  
  
Her innocent question made him drop the smile. Instead, he patted his niece on the head, a pensive expression making him look every bit his twenty-nine years. There were some parts that were bad, and some parts that made up for the bad parts, he explained to the girl, who nodded attentively, that's why I came here in the first place, because all the good parts...went away, he ended vaguely.  
  
The girl seemed to be considering something. I overheard you and Mum talking once, a year or so ago, about a Miss Dular', she looked away, not wanting to see if her beloved uncle was looking at her reproachfully at the mention of the name, not to talk of the admitted eavesdropping. Was she the good part?  
  
Beowulf closed his eyes, wondering faintly if all kids were that observant. The best.  
  
...Oh. I'm sorry, Sir Uncle, I just--  
  
No, don't worry about it, he quickly interrupted, noticing that the child seemed to be on the verge of tears. He stroked her long hair, waiting for her to calm down before suddenly asking, Do you want to hear about her?  
  
She gazed up at him with hesitation lurking just below the surface of her dark eyes. Is it really okay?  
  
Of course it is. She would've loved to meet you. Now, what should I start with?  
  
Was she _very_ beautiful, Sir Uncle?  
  
Extremely. She had golden hair past her shoulders--  
  
Golden like your hair?  
  
No, a bit darker. And she had light, creamy skin and caramel-colored eyes--  
  
Like the candies at the sweets shop?  
  
Exactly. And she was very tall and slender, and very graceful, he caught the girl's odd expression and stopped remembering. Is something wrong, Caitlyn?  
  
His niece frowned, trying to figure out her own words. Sir Uncle, you sound like you liked her very much.  
  
I loved her very much, he softly corrected, and the young girl's frown deepened even more at this.  
  
Do you still love her now?  
  
Unsure at what the girl was trying to get to, Beowulf only nodded. It was too hard to deny that he still had strong feelings towards his lost love.  
  
The dreams had seen to that.  
  
Caitlyn's face went blank as she thought over her uncle's nonverbal answer. Finally she spoke, her voice soft yet somehow it was easily heard over the loud cheers and cries at the nearby lake. Even if you're courting Lady Oaks?  
  
Even if I feel this way, I still have my life to live, he tried to explain to her, to himself, I have to move on.  
  
His niece didn't respond, lowering her gaze to her lap. However, he could see the lingering disappointment in her profile, giving her a sad sort of maturity. How sad, wrapped in sad tone, this whisper fell from her tiny lips, adults make things so easy.  
  
She stopped calling him Sir Uncle' that day, and Beowulf was pretty sure he understood why.

-0-

_Before that night, it had been easy. Just don't touch her inappropriately. He had lots of self-control, compounded by the fact that he didn't want to scare her off. They had plenty of time to get to that point. He had found out from Chiroseau that she hadn't even known what a date' was until a few moments before they went out. She was too innocent to do anything, and he was going to wait.  
  
That night, he realized how wrong he'd been.  
  
Now, a week later, they were talking again. She was by his side with that small smile on her face. That was all he had wanted in the first place from her.  
  
--You say that...as if I hadn't enjoyed it as well--  
  
What a way for her to complicate things. He wasn't going to deny that he'd wanted her that night. He had thought she'd wanted the same because, for a man with admittedly poor memory, he could easily recall the feeling of her pressing up against him, her soft utterances as he cupped her breasts. Hearing her validate this only made him wonder why he was holding back.  
  
When she had looked at me, her eyes...  
  
It was irritatingly confusing to him how she could do one thing and say another later. It was all the more reason to wait. Barring her clinging onto him and moaning his name into his ear, he could hold out for a long time.  
  
He glanced at her as they walked back to the church. Her hand was small and warm inside his own, their entwined fingers instilling a sense of calm that he had missed. Even though he'd been frustrated and even angry with her, all those intense feelings drained away now that they were together again.  
  
But it doesn't mean that this makes everything okay, he sighed inwardly, I don't want to deal with something like this again.  
  
She gently squeezed his hand. Is everything okay, Beowulf?  
  
I'm just thinking, brandy eyes watched her expression shift from curious to worried, I really don't want to go through this again.  
  
I know, she replied softly, neither do I.  
  
Letting go of her hand, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and glanced at the church in front of their alleyway, dark and silent in the night. There was the comfortable feeling of her arm snaking around his waist as they slowed down their pace. Reis, I don't want to sound like I'm lecturing you, but I need you to know that it's not fair to me if you make all the decisions in your head without telling me anything. I know you're trying, this last line was said quickly as she frowned, and I'm proud of you, but would you be able to condone having your feelings tugged around without knowing why?  
  
A stricken look crossed her youthful face, and Beowulf instantly felt horrible for continuing this line of discussion. Their dinner had appropriately skimmed the reason for their separation, instead focusing on more mundane factors in their lives. He hated to dwell on things, but he also wanted to bring his point across.  
  
Even if it hurt her.  
  
Despite the pain lingering along her features, she was still looking at him steadily. I know...I understand, bringing up the arm that wasn't around his waist, she touched his face lightly, and I'll keep trying.  
  
He hugged her to him then, kissing the top of her head. That's all I need to know, he whispered, knowing that her sensitive ears would pick up on it. I'd better go. I've got an early morning tomorrow. As he loosened his grip on her, she initially allowed him to pull away but placed her hands on his chest, causing him to look at her in curiosity.  
  
Before you go... she tilted her head up slightly, peering at him somewhat nervously through half-lidded eyes, will you kiss me, if you don't mind?  
  
You don't have to ask, he muttered, a bolt of guilt running through him at how cautious she was being. Lowering his head slightly, a testament to her odd height for a female, he kissed her softly, cupping her face in his hands briefly before running his fingers through her silky hair. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but in its own way it was more satisfying to the man who was used to going place to place, never staying too long in any one location.  
  
It was an embrace that made him feel as if he belonged somewhere.  
  
With a tinge of regret, he pulled away, placing a kiss on her forehead. How about dinner on Monday, Reis?  
  
She looked at him, a peaceful expression spreading over her gentle features. Alright. I'll be there._  
  
Within his childhood home, Beowulf didn't bother to open his eyes. Instead, he sank deeper into his blankets, all the while thinking about the oddity of his dreams. He was used to dreaming up the memories of his stint in the war, the murders he committed for the Church. Because of those terrible memories, he had always shied away from sleeping for too long. But these memories, these pleasant and innocent dreams...  
  
In some ways, he would've preferred his old dreams.

-0-

Are you nervous? Ellyce asked, giving a cursory glance at Beowulf's clothes. She reached out and adjusted his collar, then ran her hands down his sleeves in an attempt to get rid of any stray wrinkles.  
  
He was giving her an amused look when she looked up at him. Not next to you, I think, he teased, quieting once she narrowed her eyes in irritation. Is something wrong?  
  
Normally self-assured, right now the noblewoman was fidgeting with her hands. It's just this whole thing, she looked up at him imploringly. I just really want this to come together well.  
  
Beowulf had never met the Oaks family before. Although he had been dating Ellyce for nearly five months now, he'd been ambivalent about the idea. She had finally extended an invitation to her home, one that could not be denied. At least, that was what his sister had stated with a raised eyebrow. And he knew exactly why his sister had given him such an bland look.  
  
It was time for the Oaks family to judge if he was the right man for Ellyce.  
  
With a strong chord of reluctance being plucked to the rhythm of his heart, he allowed his girlfriend to groom him into the image of the kind of man her parents would love. To his credit, there hadn't been much done to either his looks or his personality. He was grateful that much had gone unscathed.  
  
--_My father is really proud of his part in the war. I know how you feel about it, but try to tolerate it. Enjoy it, even. Please?_--  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
The first half of the evening went well. He was properly introduced to Sir Isodore Oaks, Lady Matiluda Oaks, and Lord Brunshild Oaks, the parents and elder brother to Ellyce. Her mother issued many apologies, as her youngest daughter was unable to attend due to her specialized training to become a Holy Knight and part of the Royal Guard. These titles were supplied by the honorable father himself, who then asked Beowulf about what part, _if any_, the younger man had played in the war.  
  
This was the segue into the second half of the evening, which in Beowulf's humble opinion would've been better if it had never existed in the first place.  
  
When he came home at a half past nine, he brushed off his sister's questions and strode towards his room. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was sleep.

-0-

_He loved looking at her, especially with the afternoon sun glittering through her golden hair.  
  
I love sunny days. The sound of Reis' voice was soothing to him as she gazed upward into the blue sky that blanketed Bariaus Valley. Brandy eyes watched in contentment as she turned to him, asking, Beowulf, do you want to move into the shade?  
  
He favored her with one of his boyish smiles. Don't worry about me, love, I'll survive, his eyes wandered from her face to the endless blue above them. At least it's not too hot, he brushed at his black uniform derisively, wishing that their trip into the valley hadn't been so impromptu. But she was looking at him in that way, with that smile, and it was always nice to spend some private time away from any prying eyes back at the town...  
  
Or I'm just a sap when it comes down to it, he thought, discreetly glancing at the woman who sat beside him and soaked in the calm atmosphere. Come to think of it, have I ever denied Reis anything?  
  
There was an impish smile on her face when she turned away from the skies again, instantly piquing his interest. Her long hair, tied up behind her head in a tail that rocked back and forth like a golden pendulum, swung over one shoulder as she leaned down and kissed him roughly on the lips. Not missing a beat, he reached around her slim waist and pulled her down on top of him, running his hands up and down her back as she cupped his face in her soft hands. After a few minutes she pulled away, her breathing heavy as he slowly opened his eyes and took in the blush that had spread on the face above him.  
  
I thought you might be bored, she said as a way of explanation.  
  
Why would I deny anything to a woman like this? He grinned as he lifted his head up, placing a kiss just below her small nose. I'm still bored. He said, trying to pull her down again, immediately loosened his grip when she wriggled in it. Instead, she settled beside him, resting her head on his chest and slinging one arm over his chest. They laid like that for what felt like moments, minutes, hours.  
  
Not long enough.  
  
She placed her lips in the crook of his neck, kissing the edge of his jawline. I wish we could stay like this.  
  
We will, Beowulf whispered back, we'll stay like this forever._  
  
-----------  
**Chapter 3: The Brave**  
-----------

_My dreams tell me of a past  
I once reveled in and how  
much I've truly missed it  
  
If these memories are like  
a fate that I can't avoid, then  
why should I go against it?  
  
But what should I do now,  
and why do I feel as if the key  
to that is in my memories?_

How it bothered him. Oh, how indeed.  
  
He smiled ruefully as he tried to draw up lesson plans for the next week, surrounded by the comfortable ambiance of his office at the academy. However, his efforts were hampered by his constantly wandering mind. His thoughts constantly strayed to one location, time and time again over the months, gaining significance with the passing of time.  
  
_Why do I keep having those dreams?_  
  
It was one thing to keep Reis in his heart and move on with heavy feet. At least then he'd eventually move on, even if it took a while. And he _had_ moved on already, what with his new job, new girlfriend...  
  
His feet were working just fine. His heart was still stuck, though.  
  
_Why are these memory-dreams appearing in chronological order, anyway?_  
  
That was the part that was really bothering him. It was as if his mind wanted to run through all the way to the end--  
  
_Her death?_  
  
--and he didn't know if he really wanted to remember that now, over a year after it had occurred. Wasn't it already enough that he had chosen to become a heretic and left the Church? Wasn't that punishment enough to know that he had run away from the chance to exact justice for her?  
  
He sighed, tapping his pen against the blank piece of paper in front of him. It was already April, the start of the new school year, and he'd been assigned more classes than a professor starting his second year should've been given. He would've used his lesson plans from the last semesters, but with the different types of magic classes under his wing this time around he wasn't able to cut corners.  
  
_Damn, and I really wanted the chance to think about all this without having to worry about time_, he thought with some irritation, _it's getting too hard to pay attention to things these days. And Ellyce..._  
  
The thought was cut down before it could go any further. With just the thought of that name, Beowulf could feel the pressure on him to make all sorts of commitments that he preferred to wait on. And some of them were ones he didn't even want to think about.  
  
Ellyce Oaks was a good woman, but she was no Reis Dular. Not to him. He'd felt more for the latter in two months than he did for the former in seven. Seven months in, and he had wanted to propose to Reis. He wasn't sure how long it would take before he felt the same for Ellyce, but he knew no one was willing to wait that long.  
  
And he was sorry for that.

-0-

_Her eyes were solemn as she stared into his. Beowulf, have you ever felt...as if you were unable to do anything at all?  
  
The man frowned, shifting his hold on her as she sat on his lap. They'd been meeting in his office due to the fact that Bariaus Valley was out of question with the arrival of the torrential rains of late fall. Why do you ask? he queried, studying her blank face. Lately she had been acting strangely, or rather, asking strange things.  
  
--Do you...do you think it's a good idea to act on one's feelings alone, even if it means going against established rules?--  
  
He was a bit suspicious.  
  
Well, I... she made a face, embarrassment tinged with a very real desire to know, and his curiosity overtook his already mild suspicion, I always like knowing new things about you.  
  
I usually feel like I can't do very much, he answered, his arms encircling her small waist, I'm only human, after all.  
  
Her eyes flickered with some odd emotion, and he could've hit himself after he realized what he had said. With the knowledge that she had been resurrected by a dragon's blood and essence, she wasn't so easily convinced of her human status these days. Are you saying that because you're a human, there are things you can't do, or because of   
  
Beowulf said nothing for a minute, trying to weigh which answer would have her less likely to brood. Well, both, I'd think, he said, reaching up with one of his hands and stroking her shoulder-length hair, I can only imagine how much more easy it would be to get my point across if I could only breathe fire, he grinned encouragingly, and after a moment she seemed to relax and smiled back, I know what my limitations are, and I know that the only person I can truly control is myself.  
  
You affect me as well, she murmured, leaning against his chest. He laughed lowly at this.  
  
But in the end, you make your own decision, love. I wouldn't want to control your thoughts and ideas.  
  
Neither would I, her voice was soft and strangely profound. Even if that made everything easier, it wouldn't be you, would it?_  
  
_Such a mundane dream_, Beowulf could only think as he reached around the bed and threw his blankets back onto him without opening his eyes, _but now that I think about it, about a week later she asked me...she told me she wanted me to stay over that night. Huh. So maybe that's why she asked all those strange questions in the first place._  
  
As he fell back into a restless slumber, he realized that there wasn't much left as far as the memories went.

-0-

She was waiting for him, her eyes slitted like a cuar's as she gazed at him from her seat in the parlor. Dark brown locks of hair spilled from the top of her head down, pouring over her shoulders, curled ends covering the bust of her favorite green dress that matched her olive eyes. She sat primly in her favorite chair next to her favorite tea table, both antiques from a daintier time a century ago. Surrounded by her beautiful furniture and lovely features, Amelia Darrow was truly a noblewoman in this moment.  
  
But she had never been concerned with being noble when it came to her family.  
  
she gestured to him when he froze at her gaze, come here.  
  
Hesitantly he stepped inside his sister's den, immediately wary. What else could he do, though? Yes, Sis? he asked, invoking his familiar name for her in an attempt to stave off the inevitable bloodletting.  
  
I want to know why.  
  
Why what?  
  
Are you just playing with her? Do you realize how this reflects upon you?  
  
I'm not ready for that. Not right now, he answered flatly, then shook his head and looked away. Why do you care? She hasn't said anything yet, you know. She's not as impatient as you.  
  
Annoyed at that jab, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. That's because she's more noble than that, even though everybody's telling her she shouldn't expect much from you by now.  
  
Are you one of them?  
  
I will be soon if you don't do anything, Amelia muttered. What is this, Beowulf? What's stopping you?  
  
The emotion behind his brandy eyes was decidedly bland as he looked over in her direction. I don't love her, Sis.  
  
Oh, you don't love her. Wow, little brother. You say that as if it _means_ something, her tone was nothing short of derisive as she clenched her hands in her lap.  
  
Doesn't it? he asked sardonically. Amelia laughed, falsetto high and harshly grating, the action itself irritating him immensely.  
  
That's my brother, always idealistic. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the world turned on his romanticism? Standing up, the woman glared at him, anger emerging from a source beyond the subject of this talk. Stop being so selfish and look at the consequences of the situation for once!  
  
Beowulf was incredulous at the charge. Recovering quickly, he shot off a glare of his own at her. What's so selfish about thinking that she'd have a terrible time married to someone who doesn't love her?  
  
His sister scoffed at this. Do you honestly think she loves you? We're not raised to marry for love. We're just breeding chocobos to ensure the survival of our family lines, after all. But you always want more, don't you?  
  
Of course I want more than that, he replied, his face showing how perplexed he felt that she would ask such a thing. Do you think I want to live such a sad life?  
  
'Sad life'? she asked, her tone wavering with the shock that appeared on her face. Suddenly, rage distorted her normally attractive features. No more pathetic than being a man who keeps running away! Look at yourself! You run away from here to the war, away from the war to the Church, away from that to the place you started from, her eyes were wide with disbelief as she continued, where will you run to now, little brother? _Where_? At the rate you're going, you'll die at the edge of the bloody _world_!  
  
No matter how sad my life may seem, at least I'm the one who stands her ground.  
  
Beowulf paused from his next retort as her words reached him, and the growing anger in his dark eyes seceded as he looked away again. His eyes wandered the nicely-decorated room, suddenly tired from the spat. He had always hated arguments; it had always bothered him to ride an emotional wave when he felt that most disagreements could be worked out in a calmer manner. It was one thing to talk and another to hurl invectives at another, especially at someone as precious to him as his elder sister.  
  
But it didn't mean that he was going to roll over for her. He had that much pride. You're the braver one, he stated frankly, noticing that she had relaxed slightly at the comment, but I'm not you. I like her, but it's not fair to either one of us. She could find someone who appreciates her more than I ever could.  
  
His sister was skeptical, her face blooming with beauty as her anger seeped away. I've seen you two together. You treat her more nicely than any other nobleman could.  
  
He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. I treat everyone nicely. And maybe it's time she thought of expanding her search from just the nobility.  
  
An ugly smirk crossed the older sibling's face. Please. Her family's already lost one trading mark, what with the younger one doing that whole knight business. Ellyce is really their only chance to get into the higher echelons of Lesalian society.  
  
And _I'm_ acceptable? The Kadmus name isn't that great. Surprised at the dark look Amelia threw at him, he looked away. I didn't mean that in a bad way, he muttered.  
  
Mum, remember? Everyone knows it. The brunette threw up her hands suddenly, exasperation clearly marked on her face. Brother, you really have a way of diffusing people. I give up, sighing heavily, her eyes looked weary to him. So then, if you feel you can't marry her, why are you wasting her time? Twenty-six for a noblewoman is forty for a commoner.  
  
Beowulf turned away, not letting his sister see the sudden reluctance glittering in his eyes. Like I said before, Sis, he said softly, you're the braver one of us.

-0-

_ Beowulf opened his eyes, annoyance crossing his face. Throughout the years, he'd learned to sleep through people talking and various loud noises, but even he stirred at a good kick to the shin. The first thing he focused on in the dark of the morning was Reis' hair spilled over their pillow. When he sat up and looked over, it was apparent that she had never woken up when he came to her room early in the morning. He sank back down, feeling both relieved he hadn't woken her up as well as a bit miffed that she hadn't even turned around in her sleep.  
  
God, that makes me sound like I'm needy or something, he sighed inwardly and stretched, gritting his teeth when his feet painfully smacked against the footboard of the short bed. Dammit, I hate this bed.  
  
Reis didn't wake at the sound, and when he looked over at her again it was obvious, even in the dark, that she was in the midst of a deep sleep. Her features, normally youthful, seemed to take on a confident maturity that the twenty-one-year-old only hinted at every so often. This new bit of knowledge enchanted him into keeping his eyes on her, wondering what else he could discover in the silence of the morning. Her lips were parted, and strands from the thick locks of hair she normally wore beside her face fell over her mouth and chin. Reaching over, he brushed the strands away gently, making them accentuate the curve of her jawline instead. She moved slightly at his touch and he froze, his contradictory feelings of not wanting to disturb her and wanting her to acknowledge him rising up again.  
  
When it seemed that she was still asleep, he let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. He moved his fingers away slowly, drawing his fingertips along her cheekbone before pulling his hand away entirely. There was a soft smile on his face as he gazed at her for a moment, then he slowly moved up to her, trying not to wake her. Her back was pressed up along his chest before he knew it, and it was a simple reflex that brought his arm around her waist, a blanket away from feeling the soft texture of the sleeping robes she wore. He closed his eyes as he breathed in, the alluring scent of her hair instilling a sense of peace in him as he held her closer to him.  
  
Oh, don't want to get hit again, he remembered drowsily, moving his leg over hers underneath the blanket. Hope that works.  
  
The last thing on his mind as his mind sank into a warm, dreamless sleep was a feeling of complete comfort, a gentle happiness, and the quiet of the early morning._  
  
Beowulf awoke in his bed, not bothering to move in any sort of way. Instead, he laid there and thought. In his mind a set of scales swung one way, then another, full of logical reasoning and arguments and counter-arguments.  
  
It was a while before a clear decision came to his mind, but he knew it had been made a long time ago.

-0-

When it came to relationships, Beowulf Kadmus could not boast of a good record. He couldn't even claim much of a lengthy one, though that was more of the war's fault than his own. There had been three women altogether, and out of that two had disappeared out of his life.  
  
It was a breezy May afternoon when he decided to end his relationship with the third.  
  
...I see, Ellyce Oaks said after the pause after Beowulf's announcement. They had been having tea at a small cafe when he looked her in the eye and stated that it would be better for the both of them if their courtship ended. Although her aquamarine eyes were slightly dulled, her face betrayed no overt emotions.  
  
He frowned at her short answer. Are you alright? There were mixed emotions blubbling inside him at her decidedly lukewarm reaction. Even if there hadn't been much in the way of love between them, he felt that she had seemed to like him enough to at least be a bit more depressed over this. What was the point of feeling guilty otherwise?  
  
Tilting her head, she stared at him with equal parts amusement and annoyance. Did you think that I couldn't see this coming?  
  
He wasn't sure what to make of this. You have a point there, he conceded. They hadn't been talking very much since the dinner at the Oaks' manor.  
  
She looked down into her teacup, long curls of blond hair shifting over her shoulders with the movement. I thought as much, glancing at him, she attempted a smile. May I ask why?  
  
_What a good question_, he thought edgily. There were lots of reasons, but only one of them would be considerate of her feelings. Looking at her calm face now, he couldn't tell if that would really matter. Before I came here, he started, leaning back in his chair as he continued to search her face for some sign that their relationship had meant something to her once, I lived in Lionel. I've told you that, I think, and she nodded, her face full of dispassionate attention. He sighed. While I was there, I met a woman and we fell in love, his tone was bitter when there was no reaction to Ellyce's face.  
  
--_Do you honestly think she loves you either?_--  
  
He looked away, wanting nothing more than to finish this as quickly as possible. She was my fiancé, but she sacrificed her life to save me. _And would you ever do the same for anyone_, he almost added in his bitterness.  
  
--_So then, if you feel you can't marry her, why are you wasting her time?_--  
  
_Seems like I really wasted her time just like you said, Sis._  
  
Then he looked at her face and saw her wide eyes, her open mouth, the pity etched along her face, and that was when he realized that maybe he was looking for an excuse to lessen his own guilt. Dear God, she murmured, I'm so sorry to hear that you've gone through such a loss.  
  
I thought that I would try to move on, instead of wasting away, but... he shrugged a bit, not looking at her, I've overestimated myself, it seems.  
  
Not at all, she replied, and when his eyes met hers she was smiling encouragingly, you're doing just fine. You're helping children become more responsible with magic. Sometime in the future, you'll see that what you've done is perhaps save the lives of others. Isn't that more than enough?  
  
But then, you... confusion marred his face, I know that you're looking for someone to marry. I've wasted your time--  
  
she raised her hand, silencing his protest. Her encouraging smile shifted into something darker, tinged with bitterness. My sister, she said something once. She said that if her only purpose was to marry and have children out of obligation, then dying would've been worth more. At the time I thought that she was being a spoiled little brat who was running away from her obligation, but now... Shaking her head, Ellyce looked away, the dark smile now a grimace, continuing with, A life of obligation isn't a life. Why should I chain myself to something like that, even if I am nobility?  
  
Beowulf studied her for a minute before shaking his head. I don't know, but I know that I don't want to put anyone through that either.  
  
She looked at him, the corners of her lips quirking up into a small smile. You're terribly kind. That's why I liked you from the first. You don't act like a noble, and...no. She stood suddenly, staring down at him. I'm glad I had the opportunity to get to know you better. Good day. She bowed, then turned around and walked away.  
  
There were a few things about Lady Ellyce Oaks that had gotten under the younger Kadmus' skin. Her occasional bursts of anger, her average height that meant that he had to bend over a lot to kiss her, that strange love she had in complaining about all sorts of people without discrimination.  
  
That she wasn't Reis.  
  
But as he watched her leave, her posture straight, her head held up high, her walk steady, all he could see was a woman who could be called noble'. A woman who, even after hearing him end their relationship, still tried to reassure him that he was living the right life. She'd done it with a smile on her face.  
  
Suddenly, he realized why she had reminded him of Reis that first time.

-0-

Being in such close proximity to Goland, Lesalia often received the backlash of the harsh snowstorms that formed in the miner's town. When added with the cold winds from the Larner Channel in the north, Ivalice's capital was a miserable place to live in during the winter months. Although the true harshness of the sleet and snow occurred during late December to March, a deluge of rain was common from as early as August onwards.  
  
Beowulf didn't mind it, though. It suited his current state of mind.  
  
As he made his way through the academy on this November day, the rains fell, drenching his cloak and soaking through his boots. The massive bodies of water that served as puddles could not be avoided, and he splashed through them with little hesitation. He was beyond being deterred by the nasty weather.  
  
His mind could do that job better than any mere God-inflicted situation.  
  
Since the memory of a morning with his beloved Reis, there had been no others. From the mild spring to the warm summer, from the promise of blue skies to the resignation at the darkening storm clouds, he had been anticipating another dream. In his waking hours, the image of Reis Dular was beginning to fade bit by bit, leaving him desperate for another perfect memory, another vivid dream. It had been April when he dreamt of her last, a long six months since he could fully recall how she had felt in his arms.  
  
He knew that this obsession with his fading memories was affecting him. Whether he was dreaming of her or not, it seemed to always drag him down. He was slower to smile, more willing to keep his own company. His sister could barely offer more than strained pleasantries to him after she heard of his dissolution of his relationship with Ellyce, while his niece seemed to always be considering something when he saw her.  
  
_And even if I had perfect memories of Reis, that wouldn't be enough._  
  
The rains fell, and he felt as if the heavens were sympathizing with him.  
  
Making his way to the front of the school, he decided on taking another way to his home. It was longer, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with his sister's disapproving glances and his niece's new taciturn nature. Huddled up in his now useless cloak, he made his way down the street, turning right at the darkened street, just a dark figure trudging through the cold, silent night.  
  
Bells rang loudly and he looked over to his right, startled out of his newly characteristic brooding. There was a church here, the side of it shadowed and ugly in the night. Out of a sudden surge of curiosity running through his veins, he walked up the street until he could see the front of it, then walked up until he was at the small doorstep that led to the large doors of the nave. Even though it was in the nice section of the city, its simple design had nothing on the church in Lionel Castle.  
  
There was a paper notice on the door. Beowulf walked up the doorstep, his eyes unable to make out the words in the absolute darkness that shrouded the holy place. He held up his right hand next to the notice, willing a small flame to appear between his thumb and forefinger. The light was substantial, easily revealing the contents of the small paper.

_The Glabados Church mourns the passing of  
Holy Priest Verden Buremonda, who had faithfully  
followed the Holy Father's word from  
November 2nd in the year of Our Lord 955 (Pantora 15)  
to October 23rd in the year of Our Lord 989 (Pantora 49).  
May he receive his rightful place by the side of  
Our Heavenly Father and His Blessed Son._

Is that so... Beowulf murmured, feeling a vague sense of vindication but no joy. He had never found pleasure in death, not even if the person in question had done a heinous thing to him. However, he could appreciate this.  
  
_I wonder what was wrong with him. Maybe he killed himself..._  
  
There was no pity at that thought, just morbid curiosity. God certainly worked in mysterious ways. As an afterthought, he pulled off the notice from the door and tucked it deep within his pockets, making his way back to the path that would lead him home.

-0-

_He was sore. God, he should've known that bastard would've been protecting himself.  
  
Buremonda was staring at him, disdain in his eyes. Painfully, Beowulf glowered back, his head swimming from the spells permeating through his mind when he had unlocked the Don't Act spell. He knew he should've gone for the Don't Move one first. His muscles were twitching from the reflected Bolt spell and he wanted nothing more than to collapse, but the Don't Move sheath that held him was still in effect.  
  
Well, dying while standing doesn't sound too bad, he attempted to joke to himself, makes me look more like a man that way.  
  
Did you think that I wouldn't take measures to protect myself? Buremonda asked haughtily. Though he couldn't even move his facial muscles, Beowulf tried his hardest to look as if he didn't care.  
  
Somehow, that seemed important to the Temple Knight at that moment.  
  
Was worth... he coughed, his lungs feeling as though they were burnt. Secretly, he wondered if they were, ...a try. Another spell...layered...  
  
It took too much energy to say anymore, and he knew that the priest could see that. Ah, would you be talking about the sluggishness you might be feeling, or the disorientation? You really shouldn't have the skill to unlock the basic Don't Act or Move spells, but just in case you did I decided on...insurance, if you will, Buremonda slowly shook his head in a pretense of disappointment, and Beowulf suddenly wanted nothing more than to take that smug priest down. You're planning to take Reis away from me. Did you really think that I wouldn't use every spell in my repertoire in order to prevent such a thing?  
  
Don't talk about her as if she was your possession, Beowulf thought angrily. With some difficulty, he attempted to focus on the current situation, coughing again as he did so. Impressive. Are you done recounting your sins?  
  
I hadn't even started. Don't be so presumptuous to-- he stopped suddenly, and Beowulf frowned mentally at this. Was something else happening? After a long moment, Buremonda turned around and began to walk towards the place he had been standing when the knight had entered the room. This is my sin, this spell I am about to cast. It is a forbidden spell, one that the Lucavi were said to have used on their victims. A spell that can transform humans into mere monsters.  
  
A slow feeling of dread began to drag within Beowulf's chest at those words. With his mind still in disarray from the multitude of spells pulling at it, he knew he had no hope of deflecting it...if he ever had one to begin with. He didn't know anything about the more ancient spells in Ivalice's past, not to talk of the immense entwined patterns that would have to be undone to weaken such an unholy spell. You'd forfeit your soul to get rid of me? Don't you think that's going a little too far? His throat constricted, dry from the fear he held about Buremonda's irrationality.  
  
He wants Reis that much? He would forsake the teachings of Ajora for her? God...I can't protect her like this, I can't...  
  
The priest glanced at him, his expression blank. No, I don't believe this is going too far for her. For Reis...this is the only thing I can do for her. He opened the book and flipped through it until he found the page he was looking for. The circle around you will increase the accuracy to perfection. If there is even a little bit of a beast's potential in you, you will transform. Frozen in that state, I will call on your knights to dispose of you.  
  
What can I do, Beowulf wondered frantically, his calm nature overtaken by his deeper need for survival, how can I get out of a plot like that? No one will know it's me, and Reis...even if she's suspicious, she won't be able to do anything. He'll...oh God, I haven't lived through the war for this!  
  
Trapped in his thoughts, he didn't hear anything else. Not from Buremonda, not from the doors of the church library. There was only his fear-filled thoughts and the rhythmic pounding of his heart.  
  
Even if I die, I need to protect her, I need...  
  
In perfect stillness, his outward face was dispassionate as dark energies swarmed around Buremonda's body. He could feel them from where he stood, twisting and pulling through his very psyche as the ends of the spell drifted past him. It was crawling over his skin, his soul, violating his being with just its presence.  
  
Reis...I'm sorry...  
  
A thick mass of black burst from Buremonda's outstretched hands, hurtling towards his prone body. Beowulf wanted to close his eyes, to turn away from the sight of the spell aimed towards him. He just wanted that if he couldn't have anything else.  
  
And then there was the color of gold before him.  
  
Something slammed into him, and suddenly magical energies thrust cruelly into his abused body as bursts of aquamarine flared out from in front of him, crackling madly within the enclosed space. He fell, the ground hard as he collided onto it. There was a weight on his abdomen. Painfully, he opened his eyes and lifted his head. A sheaf of gold was spread over his chest.  
  
Reis' hair.  
  
He sat up, breathing raggedly through clenched teeth, and lifted the woman up so that her head was level with his shoulders as he cradled her body. He shook her lightly. Reis, are you okay?  
  
Her eyes were closed, and they remained so as he continued to shake her. There was the tiniest smile on her face. He hated it. For some reason, it looked ugly with her delicate features, making her look cruel. He knew she wasn't cruel, not at all. And if she was, it was towards someone who deserved it, like Buremonda. But not him. He didn't do a thing to deserve her cruelty, much less that smile. Unabashedly, he pressed his right hand on her left breast, waiting for the inevitable beat of her heart.  
  
Nothing.  
  
With growing horror, he ran his hand up to her slender neck, pressing his fingers at the warm spot just under her jawline, searching for a pulse. Reis, wake up, he demanded, hysteria straining his voice as he called out her name again.   
  
Nothing.  
  
He shook her again, harder, tears forming in his eyes as he did so. he pleaded softly, holding her to him tightly, you have to move. I can't tell if you're alive if you won't move, his voice was wavering as he began to stroke her hair, the feel of her silken strands lost on his gloves.   
  
There was a light glimmering from one of her hands, the same color as the electric bursts from earlier. He glanced at it, the surprise he felt when he saw it was from his family heirloom not enough to pierce the complete despair that tightly wound around his being like a second skin. The light grew in intensity with each pulse until a sudden burst flooded the entire room with light. Instinct forced Beowulf to bring up his arms to cover his eyes, letting her drop onto the cold floor.  
  
This action saved him.  
  
When the light receded and he brought down his arms, there was a gigantic monster in front of him. Deep purple in color, it brought its head up and opened its jaws, revealing rows of thick, sharp fangs. Its wings flapped as it stomped its feet upon the stone floor, cracking it with the force of its weight. It was a dragon, a type of which he had never seen before.  
  
He whispered. That...that can't be...  
  
The dragon's tail whipped around and he tried to move away, but the large appendage struck him firmly in the chest. He was thrown into the air, and when his head smashed into the corner of a bookcase he instantly blacked out._  
  
Beowulf's eyes widened as he flung himself up in his bed, his breathing uneven in the shock of the dream. Slowly he brought his coarse hands up to the sides of his face, his fingertips massaging his temples as he tried to get his bearings straight.  
  
His Reis...a dragon?  
  
Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of relief flooded through his body as he lowered his head and covered his face with his hands.  
  
_Reis...she's alive..._  
  
Beowulf Kadmus had cried a few times in his life, all from various shocks in the first years of his participation in the war. He didn't cry when he had thought his love was dead, not once in the nearly two years since her supposed death. While there was a throbbing heat behind his eyes right now, he didn't cry, only letting his sudden joy run through him.  
  
_I'll find you, Reis. I know you too well. There's no way you would've let yourself get killed._  
  
-----------  
**Chapter 4: Finding My Love**  
-----------  
  
I still think it's quite possibly the dumbest thing I've ever heard, and I'm sticking to that, little brother, Amelia Darrow muttered darkly as she gently sipped her tea. Across from her, Beowulf Kadmus looked up from the gingerbread biscuits that accompanied the tea and smiled widely. Sickened by this, she turned away, her face reflecting her annoyance.  
  
Look, I know that it sounds a bit strange, he paused just as she coughed pointedly, only smiling wider at her interruption, but it's what I remembered. Reis became a dragon and now she's out there, all alone and trapped within that body. He dropped his smile, adopting a pleading look in its stead as he earnestly said, I have to find her. I've already let two years pass by without doing anything and I've been miserable. Now I know it's because I've always known that there was nothing to move on from.  
  
His sister raised an eyebrow at this. If it's been two years, don't you think that perhaps a hunter has already caught her?  
  
A dark look crossed his face and he turned away, looking out at the window beside the antique table. Has anyone ever told you that you're too negative for your own good?  
  
Draining her teacup, Amelia reached for the teapot. If you don't consider all the outcomes, you deserve whatever happens, she glanced at him while she poured her tea, you should know that, of all people. What kind of knight are you, anyway?  
  
he corrected, stung by her comment but not showing it, I gave that up the day I became a heretic.  
  
Then, what are you?  
  
A hunter.  
  
She shook her head as she sipped her tea, glancing out at the snow falling in front of her window. For December the weather had been relatively mild, with the city having not suffered through a heavy snowstorm yet. And Caitlyn wants to fill the void that you and Sir Balbanes will leave behind. The mention of his niece and the deathly-ill Heavenly Knight was enough to get Beowulf's full attention.  
  
What do you mean, Sis? Frowning slightly, he gulped down a biscuit. Caitlyn wants to become a knight?  
  
Amelia nodded resignedly, I don't like it, but she wishes to serve like her dear Sir Uncle' once did. Beowulf smiled at this.  
  
She's calling me that again, huh?  
  
Yes, as soon as you had told her that strange story of your Miss Dular becoming a dragon and how you were going to save the woman. That's what inspired her, frustration was apparent on the elder sibling's face as she glared at her brother and nearly yelled, Beowulf, please refrain from telling my daughter these things!  
  
Chastened by his sister's evident dismay, he said nothing, only pouring himself another cup of tea and scooping sugar into it. he started after a sip of his tea, I'll be out of here by March.  
  
The academy wouldn't let you leave the term early?  
  
  
  
Will you be stopping by every now and then afterward?  
  
I'll try, he paused, taking a sip of his tea, then looked at his sister. Can you try and find me a house in the meanwhile? I'll give you whatever money I earn for building and upkeep.  
  
Amelia dismissively waved. I won't let you keep a dragon here. You're better off on the outskirts of town, she glanced at him, and even if there was a cure, I'm not so sure about you keeping your fiancé under my roof, thank you very much.  
  
He was embarrassed at first, but then something clicked in his mind. A cure...I was so concerned with just the task of finding her... hurriedly he stood up from his seat, quickly saying, Excuse me, there's something I want to check. She waved again, more interested in her tea now, and he quickly made his way up to his room. Once there, he strode to the piece of luggage in the corner of his room, beside his modest desk, and opened it. A glint was the first thing he saw. He pulled out the stone and held it up in front of his face.  
  
She had been holding it in his memory. It had been glowing just before she transformed, and he also remembered that the flash of light that occurred just when she appeared before him was blue. Why, if the darkness around Buremonda had been uniformly black?  
  
_Maybe it did something. Maybe it changed the spell._  
  
But Reis had transformed, just like the priest had promised the spell was created for. The Lucavi spell, he had claimed.  
  
_Maybe the stone and Lucavi are connected? I thought they were just a myth, though._  
  
He was sure he was missing something here. Something vital. The colors...black wouldn't easily turn into blinding aquamarine so easily...  
  
_Maybe the stone is a conduit that changes whatever passes through it. She still changed, though...but even if the spell itself didn't change, maybe its type did...?_  
  
_Is that possible?_  
  
He was starting to get a headache over this, but it seemed right somehow. Sitting down at his desk, he glanced at the small, water stained paper that lay on top of various records from the school. The proclamation of Verden Buremonda's death was blurred but still legible.  
  
Dates and a stone with a Zodiac symbol engraved on it.  
  
_Okay, he shrugged mentally, naturally they're connected. The Zodiac's based on birthdays though..._

_November 2nd in the year of Our Lord 955_

...and he's a Scorpio. Figures. So the caster is a Scorpio, and the victim is...  
  
Beowulf frowned, looking at the stone in his hand with something akin to fear.  
  
Reis was a Pisces.  
  
_What is this thing? I've heard about the mythological Zodiac Stones' the Zodiac Braves held as they fought Lucavi. Could they have really existed? And if so, why would this stone accept a Lucavi spell? Are there more of these...of course there are. There were twelve Braves, one for each sign._  
  
Scorpio. Pisces. Both water signs. And if there were other Zodiac Stones throughout Ivalice, then there was a cure out there. Something that could free Reis from the curse of a monster's body.  
  
The last water sign was Cancer.

-0-

The last day of the school year at Lesalia Imperial Academy couldn't come fast enough for both the students and teachers alike. Many of the children were planning on transferring to Gariland in order to bolster their chances of getting into a safe position among the Hokuten and Touten militaries. For the most part, the professors were tired and awaited the three week rest before the start of Pantora fifty's school year.  
  
And some, like Beowulf Kadmus, were leaving the academy for good.  
  
He cleared out his office with a heavy heart. Although he was still in the throes of joy over his realization that Reis was alive, the fact remained that he had enjoyed his job as an educator. Even if he had been using it to try and move past his old life as a knight, he found something in the job of teaching others. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was nice.  
  
--knoknok--  
  
Come in, he called, sitting at his desk and glancing through a few papers that had been on his desk. As the door squeaked open, he shrugged to himself and crumpled them up.  
  
Hello. You're still not done with that?  
  
Beowulf turned at the voice, already feeling better. At his door stood Ellyce, who was carrying something in a long box. Yeah, I thought I'd just put it off until today, smiling, he motioned her over. Since their breakup, they had maintained a good friendship. Once there was no longer the prospect of marriage looming over his head, the pressure he had felt over the last few months of their relationship vanished and he found that he valued her more as a friend than as a girlfriend.  
  
She smiled in return, lifting the box in her arms. It's too bad you won't stay. Your sister tells me that you're going to become a hunter and her daughter is going to become a knight. There must be a lot of changes at your home.  
  
True. Caitlyn's already left for Gariland.  
  
So soon? I thought that Gariland will be starting later this year in respect of Sir Balbanes' death.  
  
It is, but she's going to Igros first to see her brothers, and they'll accompany her to Gariland.  
  
I see, Ellyce nodded. There was a moment of silence before she looked down and realized that she had something in her arms. Oh! I came down here to give you this.  
  
Beowulf glanced at the box she was holding out to him and took it, mentally calculating its weight. It was a lot heavier than he expected it to be. Putting it down on his bare desk, he opened it and was surprised to find an elegant sword in a delicately crafted scabbard. He stood as he gingerly lifted it from the box, grasping the silver hilt and unsheathing the sword, admiring the ancient engravings on the blade. His last sword, a Defender, had been taken away when he became a heretic. I don't know if I can accept this... he started to say, but stopped when he noticed the younger woman shaking her head.  
  
Rune Blades are expensive on the market, unless you happen to have the spare twenty thousand gil in your pocket. She offered him a small smile, her eyes shining mysteriously. My father liked you, so once he heard about the whole hunter business he asked me to give it to you. It'll help, what with the type of knight that you were.  
  
...It seems as though this belongs with your sister, not me, he said uncomfortably, sheathing the sword. The professor of battle tactics rolled her eyes at this.  
  
She's going to be knighted as a Holy Knight within the year. You should know that a Holy Knight's skills are based on physical strength, not magic. And besides, my father plans on giving her a knight sword...if he can ever find that thing, her expression was soft as she looked down, smoothing out the simple clothes she wore at the school, it should serve you well.  
  
For a moment, Beowulf felt a deep regret weighing on his heart at all the things he would have to leave behind. His job. His sister. His friend. It just seemed like too much to sacrifice in order to find his ensorcelled lover, no matter how much he loved her.  
  
But sometimes, one has to take some steps back in order to run forward and jump into a new future. He couldn't do that if he was unwilling to move at all.  
  
A sincere smile spread across his face. Thank you.

-0-

The Fifty Year War officially ended in June of Pantora fifty, due to the efforts of the late Sir Balbanes Beoulve on the original treaty process. The citizens of war-torn Ivalice breathed a collective sigh of relief at this, as many of them had been born during this period and had only known war. It was time for the people to enjoy peace, whatever that abstract concept meant to them.  
  
For his part, Beowulf Kadmus had been enjoying his own peace as he made his way through the country, spending most of his time in Zeltennia and Limberry during his first year as a hunter. These were the places he had spent many of his years as a knight affiliated with the coalition forces of Ivalice. Limberry in particular had been demolished from their lengthy invasion by the Ordalians, but the people there had been stronger for it and dutifully rebuilt their region under the war hero Marquis Mesdoram Elmdor. Zeltennia was a little better, the people there bolstered moreso by the honorable Holy Swordsman Cidolfas Orlandu rather than the head of the region, Duke Druksmald Goltana.  
  
While traveling through Limberry, Beowulf happened upon a village of master hunters. After he befriended a few of them, he was told a story about a dragon who descended upon the village a year before, one that not even the elder master hunters had even seen before. Not only was its hide a dusky purple, but when one of the hunters struck it with a Holy Lance it had been healed by the resulting Holy spell. Apparently confused by why the people who had been attacking it would suddenly heal it, the dragon left. The hunters of this village, appropriately chastened by the dragon's actions, christened it the Holy Dragon' and vowed to leave it be.  
  
While he was sure she was deserving of the title, the hunters were also tight-lipped about the dragon went, leaving Beowulf with nothing more than a new name for her.  
  
He came around to west Ivalice during August, stopping at Dorter Trade City to drop off his kills at the fur shop. Even though it was early afternoon when he finished his business in the town, he decided to stay for the night and leave for Gariland to visit his niece the next day. As Dorter was a bustling place full of merchants and travelers, he headed for the bar and kept his ears open for information. The tables were full so he sat at the bar, ordered Zeltennian beer and listened.  
  
After some time somebody sat on the stool next to his. Fovoham beer, he called for in an authoritative voice. Momentarily distracted, the hunter glanced to his left and saw a knight with sandy blond hair who looked vaguely familiar. As his memory was fairly poor, he looked away and focused on eavesdropping again.  
  
_A little pathetic to find out information this way_, he groused to himself, _but no one's talking about a Holy Dragon' yet. Maybe when they're drunker..._  
  
Beowulf? Is that you?  
  
The named man looked at the knight sitting next to him again, once again struck by how familiar this person looked. Yes, that's me, he said slowly, observing how the other man's hazel eyes lit up even though they seemed tired. I'm sorry, do I know you?  
  
This newcomer smiled. Wiegraf Folles. From the operation in Bervenia. It's been a while, hasn't it?  
  
Beowulf's eyes widened at the name. Taking a closer look at the uniform the other man wore, he recognized it as the uniform from their days in Bervenia. He had a similar one at home. Sorry. How did the...Knights of Death thing work out?  
  
A cloud of irritation descended upon Wiegraf's weary face. It had worked out fine. I was able to get enough troops for the government to recognize us. They even made me a White Knight, he reached for his mug and took a deep draught of the golden liquid, but even though the war's been over for months, they've been stalling about paying us what we're owed. I'm starting to think that they have no intention of doing so.  
  
What will you do then? Beowulf asked, reaching for his own mug.  
  
Whatever we have to do. We're what the nobles depend upon for their easy lives. Turning away, there was now a somber look in the knight's eyes as he continued, I have men and women that need the money to support their families. I won't let the aristocracy just roll by us like they've always done, Wiegraf smiled slightly, but enough about that. What have you been up to?  
  
A little of this, a little of that, the hunter was evasive. Right now, I'm a hunter.  
  
Hm, I wouldn't have imagined you doing that... Wiegraf seemed to be on the verge of saying more, but he turned to the door just as it opened, letting in some badly needed light. Oh, Sally. What is it now?  
  
A woman in a worn monk's uniform approached them, loosening her gauntlets as she did so. Wiegraf, Milly just reported in. Margueriff needs to be reined in again, the short-haired woman casually glanced from her leader's face to Beowulf's, and she frowned, whispering,   
  
I'll tell you what, you catch up on old times with Beowulf here, and I'll see what I can do, Wiegraf said tiredly before returning his attention to his former comrade. It was good seeing you again. He got off of his stool and nodded at the older man once before exiting the bar.  
  
Beowulf barely noticed, as his dark eyes were solely on the new entrant. Salia, hello.  
  
The monk smiled, though her brown eyes seemed cold. Gracefully, she hopped up on the stool Wiegraf had vacated, taking a sip of the half-empty mug he had left behind. I'm surprised to see you here, she said finally, running a gauntleted hand through her strawberry-blond locks, what's it been, over ten years or so?  
  
Beowulf studied the woman he once knew as a cheerful and exuberant girl back in Bervenia. She hadn't aged as well as she should've, her formerly adorable features now having a lean, dangerous look to them now. It seems so, he answered, breaking his gaze and turning towards his mug. How is Alice?  
  
She died, Salia bluntly stated, it was a misaimed arrow by a Hokuten.  
  
Unnerved by the difference between the Salia he once knew and this warrior, he only nodded. It wasn't terribly surprising, considering that they had been in the war while he ran from it. How are you doing? he asked, keeping his eyes on the top of the bar.  
  
Salia shrugged. I'm alive. Margueriff hasn't forced himself on me yet. Everything's fine.  
  
Beowulf wasn't sure if he had misheard her second sentence.  
  
Oh, you don't know? Wiegraf took anyone who wanted in, no matter if they were brutal murderers or rapists. You know, everyone deserves a second chance, even if they were booted out by Sir Zalbag himself. The monk drained the rest of the glass and slammed it down, cracking it and drawing a dirty look from the barkeep. He'll even give them second-in-command, even if he knows that they can't be trusted. Even if that means that he has to put all the women under his command to protect them, she covered her face in her hands and moaned, I believe in him, but he's gonna get us all killed.  
  
Reluctantly, Beowulf looked at her. But, he's still worth it for you, right?  
  
He has too many problems to care about me. The sadness in her eyes was painful for him to behold as she struggled to smile at him. Sometimes, when it gets really bad, I think about you, she reached out and grasped his shoulder, I want to apologize. I said some horrible things...you're worth more than to simply be a   
  
He smiled kindly. It's in the past. Don't worry about it, he reached over and touched the hand on his shoulder. Just keep surviving and that'd be enough.  
  
Flinching, Salia dropped her hand. God, you're still so impossibly kind, she lowered her tone, I'll be kind back. We're preparing on attacking the nobles in Gallionne, especially in Igros and Gariland. If you have any family there, get them out soon, her smile was dark as she glimpsed the surprise on his face. We do what we have to do. We won't stand being ignored any longer.  
  
Beowulf made a note to warn his niece and his nephews, as they all lived in Gallionne. _but do you really have to go so far_, he almost asked.  
  
It's completely necessary, she said, more to herself as her eyes reverted back to the flatness from before, I've got to go. I don't want to get harassed if I come back too late.  
  
he said quietly. The Knights of Death monk nodded once before jumping off of the stool and leaving the bar. A disquieting feeling descended upon him then, one that whispered to him that her days, as well as those of her allies, were numbered.

-0-

The first year after the Pantora age of the Fifty Year War was named Elria, a word for peace' in the ancient Limberrian form of the Ivalician word. There were troubles in Gallionne during the beginning of the year due to the newly-named Death Corps, but due to the Hokuten army that threat was soon extinguished. Not long after that, there was quiet grumbling over Queen Ruvelia, who was ruling the country after her husband's death, and about her tyranny and how her son meant that she would be ruling for quite a long time. Every time Beowulf stopped in Lesalia, his sister always seemed worried about the recent goings-on, and even her sharp tongue said nothing in dissent about the queen's abusive ways.  
  
She didn't want to die.  
  
At this time, rumors of the Holy Dragon started spreading wildly, and fearless--or stupid--squads of disgruntled former soldiers went out in search of it. Beowulf followed, secretly happy every time a group of hunters were found dead. Reis was apparently more than capable of protecting herself. But soon the rumors decreased, and the hunter soon realized that she had gone into hiding again.  
  
During the second half of the year, the biggest news in every tavern in Ivalice was over Cardinal Draclau's strange death. The former Temple Knight had been saddened about this, although he was also interested in the rumors about a stone with a Zodiac symbol engraved in it being found in Goug. He wondered if it had been the Cancer stone.  
  
The Lion War started at the end of the year, causing the name of the next year to be changed to Rudra', a word for confusion in the ancient Fovohamian dialect. But even with such monumental tragedies like a civil war, Beowulf heard new rumors, this time of the Church's search for stones with Zodiac runes engraved on them.  
  
In December of the first year of Rudra, he took his Aquarius stone and tossed it into the underground passage of Goland's colliery. No Church official was going to stumble upon it there. The reaction by the stone in his memory made him realize that maybe Reis had a connection with the stone. Monsters were sensitive to things beyond human reasoning, and Beowulf sure couldn't reason out the Zodiac stone. He figured Reis wouldn't help but be drawn to the Aquarius, having had such a bond with it. The deepest part of the colliery was narrow, and she would be trapped there.  
  
It had been five years since he had last seen her, and he was desperate.

-0-

Out of all the bars in Ivalice, Beowulf Kadmus liked Lesalia's the most.  
  
Back from a recent trip around the north end of Lionel, he was in a bad mood. The path to Lesalia required him to go through Goland, which was in the midst of a snowstorm in August of the second year of Rudra. The town was dead silent when he stopped in, and he found out at the tavern that it was due to a monster invasion. No one knew why all the monsters had been piling into the colliery. Beowulf could hazard a guess. Although there were requests from the town for knights, none had been granted so far. This was with good reason.  
  
The Holy Dragon had appeared.  
  
It was too dangerous for the lone hunter though, so he hurried to Lesalia to find a group at the bar willing to hire him. He had went to his house first, the one that his sister had promised him. It was a good-sized place on the outskirts of Lesalia, in a peaceful forest near the southern entrance. Once it had been small, until his sister had tacked on a couple more rooms. Why he needed all those rooms he didn't know, but at the rate she was having builders come over he'd have a wooden castle in a few years. As he wasn't in the mood for the inevitable argument, he went to the bar after changing into the only spare clothes he had. It was his old knight uniform from Bervenia, which only served to annoy him further.  
  
There were only a few patrons during the daytime, and they were all gossiping over the closure of the Goland mines instead of doing something about it. Extremely irritated by now, Beowulf took a table near the door and ordered the hardest thing the humble establishment had. After an hour, he was feeling a slight buzz and was still angry, but now it was mostly directed at himself and his inability to just fight his way through the colliery full of monsters by himself. Unfortunately, his former skills as a Temple Knight had waned from years of disuse, and his physical prowess simply couldn't handle the multitude of monsters and other hunters sure to be there.  
  
So, he drank and remained embittered.  
  
A young man walked in, but the hunter was too busy with his self-introspection to notice. Not even when the bar patrons started talking about monsters did he look up from his empty glass. But when the young man with the soft voice answered the barkeeper's question with a determined, I don't care about money. I can't leave people in need, Beowulf began to pay attention.  
  
Wow, very impressive! If only Sir Balbanes were alive... the master of the tavern announced, and the hunter noticed the young man slouch slightly at the praise, though it didn't appear to be out of embarrassment.  
  
But there's one even a master hunter can't beat, said one of the gossiping patrons.  
  
His friend looked at him in drunken curiosity. Now, that's a big problem, he enunciated slowly with a thick tongue, what kind of monster is it?  
  
It's called the Holy Dragon, his considerably more sober friend responded, nodding thoughtfully, really unusual...  
  
Are you going? The barkeep directed the question at the strange young man, who nodded at this.  
  
Yeah, I'll just go and see.  
  
Good luck.  
  
There was a moment of conflict in Beowulf's mind. _Who decides to just go and take a look through a monster infested colliery? He's either the dumbest person who won't be alive much longer, or he's powerful and accompanied by a few allies._ He watched the young man start to amble towards the exit. _He looks young, but he also looks like he's been through a lot. I'll take the chance.  
  
Reis, just wait a little longer..._  
  
Standing from his seat, he looked over at the young man. If you're going to the coal mines, will you hire me?

-End-

I'm surprised I finished this on time. I made allowances for following the layout of FFT to cut down on length--ha!--but I'd like to think it fits well. Final page count for WHW/TLB: 940 pages at the entire series' one-year anniversary!  
  
I didn't want to portray Beowulf as overly depressed, but at the same time it's fairly obvious that he didn't move on. While I tried to be subtle, I'm afraid I might've been too subtle.  
  
It was hard for me to believe that Beowulf set out immediately after Reis' transformation and started hunting for her. The general consensus seems to be that Reis was a dragon from anywhere between four to seven years. He can't be that bad of a hunter--though it's surprising that he doesn't have Secret Hunt' opened--so I thought it would be more realistic if he attempted a life first.  
  
-Many of you will notice the change in the title. The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is all about losing love due to a mistake, whether it be turning around at the last second, or not staying around for just one more second to listen to the priest who was using deliberately confusing language. For all those wondering why I used Greek names for some of the titles, it's because the name Cadmus' is Greek, after the mythological founder of Thebes who killed off Ares' dragon, planted the first dragon teeth, and was eventually cursed by Ares to turn into a dragon along with his wife. So, Beowulf's entire name is pretty meaningful. As for Reis'... dual-natured Reis Dular' might just be all.  
  
-Though I'm ambivalent about Agrias, I thought that maybe some of the people who like her would appreciate the references to her. Ellyce is a strange spelling of Elise'.  
  
- Who's Salia?' Chapter 14. ...Replacement?' Interlude 2, both parts.  
  
-My Beowulf came with a Rune Blade, but I may have been a little overleveled.  
  
Reviewers (answered in a very tired way)!  
  
Hi, TobyKikami. I'm glad you like WHW, and I've answered the whole mystery with the Aquarius stone. I also want to thank you for your review of Predator. It was never meant to shock, just to shed some light on Dragoner Reis. Hope to see more from you!  
  
Yo, Luna. How was Otakon? I hope you enjoyed seeing Hyde. I'm glad I stayed in California, just because my best friend had her birthday the same day as that concert.  
I love most of the Shrine Knights more than I like most of the characters in the game. Argh, romance and FFT don't really mix. I remember exactly two canon couples, and Delita killed Ovelia so that's not too good. While I do think that Ramza could've had something with Ovelia, all he ended up getting was her friend...which was his sister. Meh. The oddest pairing I've read was ReisXAlma, mainly because of how Beowulf was explained as being Reis' uncle. Since I was writing WHW at the time, it was more than slightly disturbing.  
Ah, you had trouble at the Balk II battle, with his pets from the Hydra class and his good friend the Chemist. That's where the talented Reis comes in. I just realized that I've never used Thundergod Cid...or for that matter, Agrias.  
Thanks for the offer with the bitorrent site, but I'm running a 56k...so prehistoric.  
  
Hello, Hawk of Death! Thanks for redoing your review, I was a little weirded out by its shortness. I generally don't think that Meliadoul would go well with Kletian, simply because Meliadoul strikes me as a true businesswoman', a woman who cares more about her career' and family than the possibility of romance. Actually, that's why I like her so much, because that's a bit rare for a female's characterization in games.  
  
The Burning Misery, video games may not turn your brains to mush, but...wait, _I'm_ not going to argue against games.  
You don't have Thundergod Cid during the Velius battle. For that matter, you wouldn't have any of the knight swords either. The first battle that I could think of that you'd have all that would be Dycedarg/Adramelk. That battle was cool...he didn't get a turn.  
I find Meliadoul useful with monsters, simply because her PA growth is awesome--only matched by Reis (for girls, anyway.) Concerning what you said about Reis being a gimmick' character I have to say this: what Meliadoul lacks in monster-ownage Reis more than has, what with the latter's inherent Two Swords, Monster Talk, Monster Skill, Train and wonderful stats. With Equip Sword and Auto Potion, Reis is able to wade through monsters and capitalize on their elemental weaknesses while Meliadoul cleans up, and vice-versa when it comes to humans. Beowulf is awesome support for any team, naturally, but those two women are the best special character' team-up to me.  
As for your questions (finally!), Kletian is the first battle in Murond Death City. He's forgettable. Sorry, as I don't use Orlandu, I don't know anything about laying on pwnage. I mainly use my generics with either Reis, Beowulf or Ramza.  
Because you're the one who commented on it, I have to explain my reasoning for the original title Alpha to Omega'. You probably know that alpha and omega refer to the first and last letters of the greek alphabet, which would've been appropriate for the context of this story.  
  
MavGunloc, you don't get a response because I talk to you on AIM anyway.  
  
Thank you, everyone who read _Within Holy Walls_ and _Those Left Behind_! A special thank you' goes to all the reviewers, especially the regulars who had to put up with my lengthy responses. This entire series has been blessed with the most thoughtful, intelligent reviewing I've ever seen, which made me strive to match that sort of quality. If anyone has any questions, put up or direct me to an email address and I'll be more than happy to respond. If you're ever interested in my upcoming FFT works, I always try to have that information on my bio page. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope to see you all again soon!


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